


sandbox love never dies

by blazeofglory, capyshota



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-07-12 10:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory, https://archiveofourown.org/users/capyshota/pseuds/capyshota
Summary: Klaus and Ben had been inseparable as kids; as close as brothers. But then high school swept them up and they began to drift apart. Ben joined the cheerleading squad and Klaus focused on his art, and they both let the past fall away.Or... most of the past. They still might be completely in love with each other.





	1. lips like licorice, tongue like candy

Klaus grimaces up at the house. 

The bass is thrumming loud enough to feel it up through his legs from the street, and the joint smouldering between his lips really isn’t helping his nerves as much as it should be. 

He’s been to parties before, obviously—and he wouldn’t hesitate to call most of those parties tasteless—but this… This is _excessive_. This is wealth and status and exorbitance all concentrated into one high schooler’s excuse for a good time. This is quintessential teenagerdom. 

He isn’t even sure what this party is for. Football? Is it football season right now? 

Klaus takes one last drag before dropping the roach and crushing it beneath the toe of his high-top. He meanders up the little cobblestone path to the doorway, mindful of where he steps with this many drunk seventeen-year-olds around. 

The door is wide open, and within is an artist’s rendition of the gates of Hell: sweaty, half-naked, pubescent bodies all crammed together, undulating as a single entity to the noise from the speakers. That’s an idea for a sketch that Klaus files away for later—maybe something Bosch-esque.

Klaus slips into the crowd and is immediately struck by the overwhelming scent of body spray. _Sprays_. There must be _at least five_ different artificial smells assaulting his nostrils. Not to mention the stale odour of beer, which, okay, he’s a little more familiar with. And then there’s the lights, somehow always shining directly into his eyes. He manages to squeeze out the other side of the crowd and sucks in a breath. 

He’s being petulant, complaining to himself like this. Klaus had gone out of his way to come tonight—God knows he wasn’t invited—so if he wants to leave, he can leave. 

But… he doesn’t want to leave. And the reason for that is standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a beer in his hand and a flush on his cheeks. 

Ben gets _so pink_ when he drinks. It’s a shade Klaus has yet to capture exactly with watercolours.

He’s engaged in conversation with a girl Klaus vaguely recognizes—the name _Allison_ comes to mind—and his lips are drawn up in a smile. Fitting with the occasion, they’re both dressed in their cheer uniforms. Red and white tops with their school logo stretched across their chests and matching pleated skirts. 

He looks happy. And what’s ridiculous is that Klaus doesn’t feel jealous that someone else is making Ben smile like he thought he would, he’s just glad that he’s smiling at all. 

It’s been over three years now. Three years since they began at Hargreeves High; three years since Ben joined the cheer team; three years since they started drifting apart. 

Childhood hadn’t been easy. Nothing in Klaus’ life had ever been _easy_. Well… nothing except his relationship with Ben. They’d connected with all the natural ease of born brothers, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say they had, in some ways, considered each other as such. They’d shared everything with each other, including a birthday, and had no secrets. When Klaus would visit Ben’s house for the day, his parents treated him like their second child. It was in stark contrast to his own house, where his parents treated him more like a burden than their own flesh and blood. 

It was that same relationship with Ben that had kept Klaus safe, kept him sane through all the tribulations. It had helped him fall asleep on those particularly tough nights, and made getting out of bed in the mornings more bearable. He was the inspiration for Klaus’ greatest masterpieces and his scrapped sketches alike. Klaus doesn’t want to say what they had was _perfect_ , but it was the closest he’d ever been to it. 

Then, inexplicably, high school had hit like a hurricane. New friends, new possibilities, _a new start_. Turns out Joni Mitchell was right—“you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.” 

Nobody had told Klaus when he was a kid that one day he and Ben would hardly talk anymore—that would’ve broken his heart—but now that it’s actually happened, he seems to hear it everywhere. 

_“You’ll find your real friends in college.”_

_“Everything’s different after puberty.”_

_“People change.”_

_“Nothing lasts forever.”_

Don’t it always seem to go. 

But Klaus had made a few impulsive decisions and now Ben is right in front of him. 

Allison leans in to whisper something and Ben laughs, eyes lighting up. His free hand tugs absently at the hem of his skirt, trying to cover more of his thighs, but in doing so he exposes a bit of his hip and Klaus’ eyes are immediately drawn down. The skin there is paler than that around his midriff, where a tan serves as a reminder that summer is only just ending. Ben looks every inch the sweet, sun-kissed, popular boy that he’s become. 

Klaus has been anticipating the announcement that he’s started dating Diego, God knows their entire class talks about it enough, but nothing so far. A quarterback-cheerleader couple is so cliché it makes Klaus want to gag, but he’s powerless to change the all-American social hierarchy that’s been possessing high school since, ostensibly, time immemorial. And it’s not like there’s anything wrong with Diego.

Besides, it shouldn’t be any of his business who Ben gets with. No, _it isn’t_. It’s _not_ _his business_. But Klaus has always had a bit of a problem minding his own business, and Ben is so easy to care about. Up until a few years ago there had been no secrets between them, and Klaus is still coming to terms with the fact that that is no longer the case. He wonders if Ben is overflowing, _bursting at the seams,_ with secrets that are begging to be shared, just like he is. 

Klaus takes another look at how close Ben and Allison are and thinks it’s doubtful—she’s probably his new outlet for sharing all his deep desires. 

And that’s probably for the best because Klaus’ secrets aren’t quite as tame as they were half a decade ago. Not only that, but Ben probably wouldn’t appreciate hearing that his childhood best friend has been fantasizing for years about fucking him. Because he _really, really wants to fuck him_. 

Klaus can actually trace that particular desire back to its origin, to the night he’d realized he wanted Ben—seriously, _physically_ wanted him. 

It was back in middle school, when the two of them had spent the majority of their waking hours together and their frequented headquarters had included Ben’s house, the local mall, and the forest behind the park. The latter was most popular for secret sharing—the foliage kept their conversations safe and secure. Every sprout, every branch, every earthworm listening in was implicitly bound to secrecy, and they were begging Ben and Klaus to divulge. So they would. 

_Ben is balancing on a tree root, eyes downcast._

_Klaus is stretched across that boulder he’d skinned his knee on when they were eight._

_It’s raining. To someone else, it might add a somber edge to the scene, but to Klaus, it provides an ideal ambience. The forest is dense enough to keep out most of the rain, and the drops that do make their way through give rise to a comforting, earthy scent when they mix with the dirt._

_“…Did you hear what Diego did today in Home Ec?” Klaus asks._

_Ben shakes his head._

_“He flung a kitchen knife at a spider on the wall and almost killed Five.” Klaus grins, recalling the memory. “Then Five slapped him with a spatula and Diego tackled him.”_

_“Hm,” Ben hums. He tears a piece of bark off the tree and starts shredding it with nimble fingers._

_Klaus continues. “Yeah, I thought Ms. Rofa was finally gonna lose it. I’d pay to see that woman blow up; no sane person is that calm all the time.”_

_Ben nods, dropping chips of wood at his feet._

_Klaus hesitates. Ben’s silence has stretched on long enough now for Klaus to label it_ uncharacteristic. _He pushes himself up and swings his legs over the side of the rock, facing his friend._

_“Hey, remember that time I caught a pigeon in P.E? It scratched my arms up and I got out of running laps to go see the nurse.”_

_Nothing._

_“Come on,” Klaus prompts, “you love that story. What gives?”_

_Ben purses his lips and lets go of the last scraps of bark he’s clutching. His eyes are still pointedly downcast and his face is drawn._

_“Klaus, I’m… I think I like… boys. Like,” he tugs at his shirt anxiously, “I_ like like _boys.”_

_Klaus blinks. There’s a beat of silence. Then— “Oh, thank Christ.”_

_Ben’s eyes snap up to meet his, shocked and inquisitive._

_“I thought you were moving to Australia or had a brain disease or something, Benny. Don’t scare me like that.”_

_Ben is still frozen, wobbling slightly on the tree root._

_Klaus scoots over and pats the boulder, inviting Ben to sit._

_He stumbles over and Klaus helps him up, slinging an arm over his shoulders when he’s settled._

_Klaus grins. “So… what? You want to kiss them?”_

_Ben’s shoulders draw up defensively. He nods._

_“You dream about their big muscles? Their dreamy eyes? Their thick—?”_

_“Klaus!” Ben elbows him in the gut. “Cut it out, I’m being serious,” he grumbles._

_Klaus catches a hint of a smile through Ben’s grimace and it’s enough to roll with._

_“Cool down, Liberace, I’m just teasing. And besides…” Klaus looks up at the sky, storm clouds barely visible beyond the cloak of maple leaves. “I think I like boys too.” He looks sideways at Ben with a teasing grin. “I_ like like _them.”_

_Ben’s mouth falls open. “You… really?”_

_Klaus starts kicking his legs. “Mhm. I’ve been thinking about it, and it would be selfish to restrict_ this face _to a single gender.”_

_That evokes a genuine laugh from Ben. Klaus can feel his relief in the way Ben eases into his side._

_“So you still like girls?” Ben asks, hands still wringing gently in his lap._

_“You don’t?”_

_Ben wrinkles his nose. “I don’t think so. They just…”_

_“Don’t tell me you think they’re_ gross _, Benny,” Klaus scoffs._

 _“_ No _, they just—”_

_“Don’t get you going downstairs,” Klaus guesses._

_Ben shrugs tightly. “Yeah. That.”_

_“Hey, whatever gets you off, pal. Can I get an amen?” Klaus holds his hand up for a high-five and Ben just stares at him, mouth agape._

_Knowing Ben, he’d probably expected this conversation to get significantly deeper, but knowing_ himself _, that was never a possibility._

_After a few moments Ben snaps his mouth shut and gently claps Klaus’ hand._

_“…Thank you,” he murmurs._

_“For validating your sexy fantasies? No problemo.”_

_“For not making a big deal out of it,” Ben says._

_He looks up at Klaus and there’s a very distinct jump in Klaus’ chest. They’re close—they’ve been closer, but Ben’s eyes have never looked so…_ bright _before, so_ glittering _._

_“I really appreciate it,” Ben murmurs._

_It’s instinctive when Klaus glances down to Ben’s lips; he can’t help it. A little less instinctive is the way he starts to lean in. That’s pretty deliberate. The adrenaline nudging Klaus forward starts to shove when Ben darts his tongue out to lick his lips. They’re going to kiss, Jesus Christ,_ they’re going to—

_Ben’s phone goes off in his pocket._

_They both jump apart and Ben’s eyes go wide, like he’s suddenly realized where he is. The clarity in his eyes is surprisingly painful; something in Klaus’ body wails in mourning._

_Ben sheepishly slides away from him, fishing out his phone and turning away to flip it open._

_“What—” He clears his throat. “What is it, mom?”_

_Klaus’ grip on the edge of the rock tightens. Fuck, shit, fuck,_ goddamn it. _He grits his teeth and feels a full-body, biting disappointment that he doesn’t know how to handle. A fat raindrop lands on the back of his neck and slides beneath the collar of his shirt, followed by a shiver._

_“Yeah, I’m coming home now,” Ben mumbles. “Okay. See you soon.” He tucks his phone away and doesn’t look back up at Klaus. “I have to—”_

_“Go,” Klaus finishes. “I heard. Catch you later, Ben.”_

_Ben hops off their shared seat and wipes his hands on his pants. “Yeah. I’ll text you.” He starts down the beaten path, throwing a brief glance over his shoulder. “…Bye, Klaus.”_

“…Klaus?” 

Klaus zones back in to find both Ben and Allison staring at him, one with more contempt in their gaze than the other. Shit. Klaus lets out a short, sharp little laugh and stumbles forward. 

“Oh, _hey Ben_. Fancy seeing you here. Allison,” he acknowledges with a tip of an invisible hat. 

Allison narrows her eyes. “It’s… a football party. Ben’s a cheerleader. Obviously he’s going to be here. What are _you—?_ ” 

“When did you get here?” Ben asks over her. 

“Just now. Are your parties always this…” Klaus searches for an appropriate descriptor, “… _loud?_ ” 

Allison rolls her eyes. 

“Usually.” Ben shrugs one shoulder. “And they’re not _my parties_.” 

At one point, Klaus would’ve patted Ben on the chest and jokingly reassured him, but that would be crossing a line now. Not that Klaus has a problem with crossing lines—he’s a proud, self-proclaimed line-crosser—but Ben does, and putting Ben in an uncomfortable spot is the last thing Klaus wants to do. 

“If it’s not your party, I guess you’re not in charge of the drinks,” Klaus muses, drumming his fingers against his chin. He turns to Allison. “Tell me, darling. Who do I have to blow to get a Jack and Coke?” 

She sneers. “It’s BYOB.” 

“Okay, great. I’ll go pour it myself.” Klaus pats Allison’s shoulder and slides between them into the kitchen. He doesn’t bother trying to overhear whatever Allison is most definitely saying about him to Ben.

The counter is littered with empty cans and litre jugs of mixers and Klaus flits around the room pouring a little bit of whatever he can find into a Solo cup. There’s a couple making out against the fridge-freezer so he doesn’t make ice a priority.

Out the back window, he can see Luther hyping himself up while someone pushes a beer bong into his hands and Klaus almost wants to stick around long enough to see him inevitably choke and gag. A crowd is forming around him, mostly guys in varsity jackets, and they’re all slapping each other on the backs and hollering their support. Just behind them is an in-ground pool in which Klaus can count at least nine people splashing through in various states of undress. 

In any other neighbourhood, this party would’ve already been shut down, but something about the sparkling marble countertop and sandalwood cupboards makes Klaus think the cops are persuaded not to come this far out of their way. 

He takes a sip of his drink and chances a look back at Ben. Or… where Ben had been a few minutes ago. He was no longer in the doorway, and neither was Allison. 

Klaus stands a little straighter, pursing his lips. If curiosity really did kill the cat, Klaus must be on his eighth life at least. He ducks out of the kitchen, through a columned archway, and into a tiled hall lined with brass sconces, one of which is already askew. Christ, somebody evidently has a hard-on for Venetian architecture. 

Klaus taps his fingers against the side of his cup and takes another little swig. There are several doors along the hall, some firmly shut, others peeking open. Where to begin? 

Before he can choose a door, a football hurtles past his head, narrowly avoiding a historic collision with his occipital lobe. Klaus quirks an eyebrow and turns around to face his would-be assailant. 

Ah, it hadn’t been a near miss after all. 

Diego grins and throws his arm around Klaus’ shoulders. With the best throwing arm in the state, Diego tosses a football _exactly_ where he wants it to go. Besides, he’d never _try_ to hit Klaus in the head; he’s too much of a sweetheart for that, despite the macho exterior he puts on at school. 

Klaus has known him for years—not _well_ , but well enough. Well enough that he’d been there while he overcame his stutter. Well enough that he was the one letting Diego squeeze his hand when he got his immunization in ninth grade. 

“What’s up, man?” he asks Klaus. “Didn’t know you were into sports.” 

It’s common knowledge that Klaus spends more time in the art wing than anywhere else, and if pressed, he’s sure nobody would be able to claim they had ever seen him so much as _touch a badminton racket_ in his life. 

Klaus smirks. “Oh yeah, yeah, for sure. Throw the ball, score the goal, slap someone’s ass. I know all about that sports shit.” 

Diego snorts. “Right.” He starts to walk, dragging Klaus along beside him. “So, what? You taking the scenic route to the bathroom?” 

Klaus tries to peek into the rooms they’re passing but Diego seems to have set plans on where they’re headed. “Uh, yep. Taking a piss isn’t worth it unless I pass some Baroque art on the way there.” 

They turn a corner, and then another corner. The hall opens out into a stunning sunroom, sans sun, and Klaus quickly tries to comprehend how this much house can all belong to one person. Potted plants are smattered throughout the room, and the two plush couches sitting opposite each other are draped in people. The wide windows set into three of the four walls and a slanted glass ceiling are undoubtedly giving the neighbours a front row seat to this shit show of a party. There’s music playing in here, too, but it’s deeper and slower than the music out in the foyer-- _sultry_. On the carpet in the centre of the room is a haphazard ring of students all leaning forward in anticipation. 

“I dare you to… jump in the pool!” 

Laughter and mumbled _ooh_ s erupt from around the room. 

_Ah, yes_. It’s good to see teenagers upholding their age-old traditions. 

“The pool? But I’m wearing my cheer uniform!” 

“Guess you’ll just have to take it off.” 

It’s at this point that Klaus spots Ben, sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest, grinning over at the girl whose future is looking wet. His beer is nearly empty now, and the flush has spread to—are his legs shaved? 

Diego gently slaps his shoulder and it spooks Klaus. He shoots Klaus a little salute and props himself up on the arm of the nearest couch to watch the show. 

A loud wolf whistle drags Klaus’ attention over to the girl peeling her top off. Her bra is lacy enough that it was probably picked specifically with this party in mind—getting undressed is the expectation, getting laid is the goal. 

Then, just for curiosity’s sake, Klaus looks back at Ben. He downs the rest of his beer then pulls out his phone to briefly check his messages before snapping it shut and glancing over to the semi-public strip show. 

Still gay, then. 

The little bit of joy that imbues in Klaus is stupid and futile and traitorous but it’s there. 

The girl, along with half the people in the room, push past Klaus, en route for the pool, but the game doesn’t leave with them. 

“Okay!” 

Klaus recognizes Allison’s voice, commanding attention in a way that would put a drill sergeant to shame. She’s sitting on her knees in the circle, scanning the crowd. 

“It’s my turn and I pick… Ben!” 

Ben coughs a little. “Wha—me?” His eyes are wide. “I’m not even playing. Am I?” 

Allison leans toward him and quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, _yeah_. You’re in the room, so you’re playing. Truth or dare?” 

To his credit, Ben accepts his fate very quickly and with only a small sigh. “Truth, I guess.” 

Allison narrows her eyes while she racks her brain for something suitably scandalous to ask. “Okay,” she starts, “If you had to fuck one person in this room, who would it be?” 

Ben dips his head, wrapping his arms around his legs to make himself smaller the same way he’s been doing since they were kids. “ _Allison_ ,” he groans, “I can’t—” 

“Then you default to dare!” Allison squeaks, leaning onto her hands with a manic grin. 

Ben’s shoulders go stiff, and it’s not hard to imagine why. If one were to list Allison’s most prominent personality traits, _sadistic_ would probably make the top five. 

Her gaze sweeps around the room, lingering on Klaus when she catches his eye, then immediately flicking back to Ben. “I dare you to _kiss Klaus_. With tongue.” 

That statement hits Klaus in slow-motion. _Wait… what?_

He looks to Ben and finds him agape, _horrified_ , and frantically searching the crowd. When he finally seeks out Klaus, his cheeks bloom a ruddier shade of red. Alongside Ben’s gaze, is the gaze of _every other person in the room_ , falling hard on Klaus. 

It’s stunningly silent. 

Klaus opens his mouth to speak then quickly snaps it shut, not wanting to be the first to weigh in. Specifically, not wanting to say anything that counteracts whatever Ben is going to say. Which is _no_. Obviously. Why would he say anything other than a vehement _no_ , especially when Diego is in the room? There’s a little spark in his heart that thinks he might agree to it, though, and Klaus is desperately trying to smother that while keeping a straight face. 

Allison is pleased as anything, basking in the warm glow of her own ruthlessness. 

“Come on,” she prompts, tugging on Ben’s ankle. 

He just blinks, lips parted and trying for words. “I’m… he… I didn’t even know—” 

The circumstances are, admittedly, very unfair. But then again, so is adolescence as a whole. 

Allison hops to her feet and tugs Ben up after her. 

“Can’t I just say who I want to fuck, instead?” he whines. 

Klaus swallows that obvious _no_ with his chin held high. 

“Nope, you missed your shot. Cheer captain’s rules.” She shrugs, merciless. 

Ben whimpers and Klaus wants to dive headfirst into Hell for thinking it’s hot. 

Half-heartedly, Klaus tries to argue. “No, come on,” he says. “Hey, that’s not fair, don’t make him—” But then his drink is taken from his hand and he’s being shoved forward by insistent hands. “Alright, alright! Those aren’t the manners Mr. Rogers raised you to have,” Klaus grumbles under his breath. 

He barely saves himself from tripping over his own foot and tackling Ben who is suddenly _very close_ to him, with Allison’s hand on his back. He feels awful for it, but he _really_ wants to kiss Ben. 

Well… maybe not _awful_ , but he feels _mildly uneasy_. 

… _Vaguely sympathetic_ at the least. 

“So, weather’s nice, eh? Late September, I thought it would be a little more—” 

“Just. Shut up,” Ben mutters, defeated. “This isn’t going to be weird or anything, right?” 

Klaus flashes a crooked grin. “When am I ever _weird_ , Benny?” 

_Oh_. It’s been a while since he’d used that nickname, and Ben seems to notice, with the way his lips part in surprise. 

“Nah,” Klaus waves a hand, “it’s not weird. Just a quick one, yeah?” 

Ben nods tightly. 

Everyone around them has begun chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” 

“Quick,” Ben murmurs, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them again, his gaze drops to Klaus’ mouth and just like that, Klaus is back in the forest, on that boulder, with an arm around his best friend.

Klaus swallows. His heart is pounding in a way that’s definitely never happened when he’s kissed other people. He doesn’t even feel this when he’s _going down on someone_. It’s fucking _fluttering_. 

Ben looks so afraid and some base instinct makes Klaus reach out and grab his shoulder with a tight, reassuring hand. Then he leans in and his lips brush Ben’s. 

Ben jerks back for a split-second before steeling himself and surging forward, kissing Klaus. 

Cheers erupt from around them but Klaus can only hear the pounding of his own pulse. He’s too focused on Ben—Ben’s scent, Ben’s taste, the fullness of his soft, perfect fucking lips and the way they’re quivering. This is years overdue, and it’s everything he’s been needing—everything he’s been searching for in other people. It’s just a _peck_ and Klaus is already getting turned on, for fuck’s sake. 

“ _With tongue_ ,” Allison says pointedly, standing far closer than need be. 

Klaus chuckles at that. His hand slides from Ben’s shoulder up to the back of his neck and he tilts his head, drawing his tongue along Ben’s lower lip. 

Ben freezes completely. 

“Open,” Klaus murmurs against his mouth, stroking his thumb through the baby hairs at Ben’s nape.

Obediently, Ben lets his lips fall apart and Klaus slips his tongue inside. His head is on _fucking fire_ right now. He flicks over Ben’s tongue so gently, and gets no response. 

Ben is _shivering_. Is his whole body so violently opposed to kissing Klaus that it’s struggling to cope? That doesn’t sound too far off, really. 

Then, hesitantly, Ben curls his tongue up to play with Klaus’ and Klaus nearly dies. He wants to moan, he wants to whine, and gasp and cry and make every obscene noise he can think of to draw Ben in even deeper. But it’s been too long already. 

It takes all his willpower, but Klaus manages to pull back with a little _smack_ and flashes a sweet smile at Allison. “Happy?” 

She doesn’t even need to answer that. 

Ben looks stunned, like his body is going into shock, eyes glued to Klaus. Allison tugs on his arm, squealing into his ear as she handles him back to his seat on the carpet. Ben’s brow is furrowed and Klaus can’t quite guess how he’s feeling, which is a new occurrence. Reading Ben used to be like reading a children’s book—easy and low-stakes. 

Now, however… 

Klaus quickly sweeps that to the back of his mind and turns on his heel. “Who took my drink?” 

It doesn’t take very long for Klaus to retreat from the sunroom. He wanders out into the backyard and leans against the fence, ignoring the half-naked teenagers racing past him into the pool. Instead, he looks up. They’re still too close to the city to see any stars in the sky. 

God, Ben had been… _nervous_. A kiss shouldn’t be that nerve-racking. Not unless there’s something else behind it, and they never would have drifted apart all those years ago if that was the case. _It doesn’t matter anyway_ , Klaus thinks bitterly, _romance is dead_. 

He fishes around in his pocket for the joint he’d rolled earlier only to find it smushed out of shape. He shuts his eyes briefly to control the petulant, roiling anger in his chest before trying to pack it back into something smokeable again. 

“Hey.” 

Klaus looks up. 

Ben is standing a few feet away, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

Klaus looks him up and down quickly and feels his anger start to subside. “Hey.” 

Ben clears his throat and gestures to the door. “Do you… Can we talk?” 

The recently salvaged joint goes straight back into Klaus’ pocket when he follows Ben inside. He leads them back into the foyer-turned-dancefloor then takes a sharp turn and starts up a staircase to the second floor. Clearly, Ben has been to this house before, whoever’s it is. 

It’s darker upstairs, probably as a tactic to dissuade people from accessing it since teenagers function more or less like moths. 

Ben stops at the top of the stairs, shoulders tight. Behind him, Klaus pauses for a second then climbs up beside him. A hallway stretches out in front of them, eventually turning to the right. 

“You bring all your ladies up here?” Klaus jokes. 

There’s no response. 

“…Ben?” 

Ben hums, clearly lost in thought. 

“…What did you want to talk about?” That’s a stupid question. 

“Right,” Ben murmurs. “Um… the kiss.” 

Klaus purses his lips. “Yeah, fuck, of course. Listen, Ben. I’m sorry. That was a shitty thing to do, I should’ve just left. I shouldn’t have let Allison—” 

“No,” Ben says. “No, it’s not that. The kiss itself was… not bad.” 

Klaus quirks an eyebrow. “High praise. Go on, I’m listening.” 

Ben begins bouncing again then changes his mind and slowly starts off down the hall. Klaus follows at his side. 

“It was just… unexpected. I didn’t think my—I would…” He sighs, obviously frustrated. 

“It’s alright, it’s cool!” Klaus says quickly. “Seriously, don’t overthink it. It was just a kiss, right?” He tilts his head in an attempt to catch Ben’s gaze. They turn the corner. 

“…No,” Ben murmurs, low enough that it’s almost drowned out by the music. “It wasn’t.” 

Klaus frowns. Yes. It was.

Unless… 

… _No way_. 

In a sudden panic, Klaus recalls as much as he can about what happened before and after the kiss, which is difficult because he’d been _more than a little distracted at the time_. But… Ben’s shivers, his flush, his reluctance… 

Klaus stops Ben with a hand on his chest and looks him dead in the eye, heart pounding. “Wait, am I—was that—?” 

The pink in Ben’s cheeks travels up to his ears. 

Klaus gawks. “Benny,” he leans in closer. “ _Your first kiss?_ ” 

Holy fucking shit. That… was not something Klaus had even considered. He was Ben’s first kiss. The thrill of the realization is quickly matched and overcome by his regret, though, because that definitely was _not_ how Ben wanted to have his first kiss. He should know, it had been a recurring topic during sleepovers. 

Klaus slaps a hand over his mouth. “Fuck,” he says into his palm. 

Ben shrugs one shoulder and continues into a spacious living area with a full-wall window overlooking the backyard. 

Klaus hurries after him and grabs his wrist, spinning him around, but he stubbornly refuses to meet Klaus’ gaze. “That doesn’t count, Ben, okay? It was a practice kiss. You can still have your perfect first kiss in that garden by the river. This one’s void.” 

That makes Ben look up. “You remember that?” 

Klaus blinks. “What, your ideal kiss? Of course, what kind of friend would I be if I forgot something so profoundly crucial?” he emphasizes with a smirk. 

One of Ben’s hands lightly slaps him on the chest. “Fuck off,” he says, grinning. 

“I just might,” Klaus hums, taking a step back towards the hallway. 

“No!” Ben blurts. “I… no. Just… Stay.” 

_Wow_ , that feels good. 

“…I’ve missed you.” 

And _that_ feels like a punch in the throat. 

Klaus sucks in a shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve missed you too, Benny.” 

“And…” Ben looks down again. “You said something about that being a practice kiss, right?” He wrings his hands together, gaze falling everywhere except Klaus’ eyes. “Well I could… probably use more practice.” 

Klaus’ fucking cock twitches. Then his brain catches up with what it’s just heard and Klaus’ heart stops beating in his chest. When it starts back up, it’s working double-time, pumping pure gold through his whole body. _Jesus H. Mary Hosanna Fucking_ _Christ_. As long as the list of things he’d expected to turn him on tonight was, this possibility _hadn’t even been entertained_. 

Ben wants to kiss him. _Again_. In a consensual, private setting. 

Klaus takes a deep breath. “…You want a second try at your not-first-kiss?” 

A nod. 

Klaus steps closer and takes Ben’s chin in his hand, tilting it up until they’re eye-to-eye. Ben’s cheeks are flaring, his face is warm to the touch. 

When Klaus speaks again, his voice is lower, sultry with his newfound confidence in what Ben wants. “ _Well_ , since it’s for such a good cause, I’d be glad to offer my services,” he murmurs. 

The bass from the music downstairs is throbbing, and it fits so perfectly when Klaus leans in and kisses Ben. It’s less hesitant than their first, but still little more than a peck. 

Ben’s body, rigid with nerves, begins to relax under Klaus’ touch and his lips part naturally. 

Klaus hums his praise and lifts his free hand to the back of Ben’s head. His fingers curl carefully into his hair and he uses the hold to pull Ben in deeper. 

Ben’s breath hitches, uncertain. 

The hand Klaus still has on Ben’s chin drops to find one of his, balled into a fist at his side. He places it on his hip then whispers, “Other one too.” Ben mirrors it with his other hand and Klaus slides in until he can feel Ben’s heartbeat against his own. 

It’s a soft, dry kiss—sweet, but not exactly the sort of kissing that needs practicing. 

Klaus draws back but keeps their foreheads pressed together. “...Get adventurous, Ben,” he says. “This is your practice, after all. Let’s see some tongue, maybe some teeth; I’m a judgement-free zone.” 

Ben is already a little out of breath, bless his soul, but he makes an affirmative noise and then Klaus is pulling him back in. Tongue comes first, slipping over Klaus’ upper lip so gently it’s almost romantic. 

“Mhm,” Klaus urges, lips parting further. 

Ben takes the cue, sliding his tongue into Klaus’ mouth to gently prod around. 

The corner of Klaus’ lips quirk up. _Fuck_ , he’s cute. Using his hold in Ben’s hair, Klaus tilts his head to the side just a little, then gives him a bit of feedback in the form of reciprocation. 

When Klaus’ tongue, soft and sure, slides against his, Ben fucking _moans_. It’s so gentle, so vulnerable, so _Ben_ , and Klaus needs it again. He rests his hand on the strip of skin between Ben’s top and his skirt and presses in gently with his fingertips. He tickles the roof of Ben’s mouth with the tip of his tongue and earns a little whimper. 

Then Klaus slips one hand down to Ben’s ass and Ben freezes. 

Shit, that was too far for him. 

Hastily, Klaus draws his hands away and takes a step back. “Fuck, sorry. I—” 

Ben is on him again, hands either side of his face kissing with a newfound passion. He nibbles Klaus’ lip between his teeth, a little rougher than most people would probably want, and Klaus absolutely fucking _melts_. He groans, hands falling back down to Ben’s hips and pulling them together. They’re both hard and Ben gasps when their cocks bump together. 

Klaus pulls him backwards until his back hits the wall then flips them around, pinning Ben as gently as his high-strung muscles will allow. Every sound he’s pulling from Ben is so precious it’s tearing Klaus’ heart apart. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Ben gasps. His hands start to roam with more confidence. They slip from Klaus’ face down his neck then lower, over his chest. 

“That’s it,” Klaus murmurs into Ben’s mouth. “You’re getting the hang of this.” 

Klaus pinches Ben’s lower lip between his teeth and tugs it back, easing a gorgeous whimper from him. Ben’s hands fist into Klaus’ shirt, growing desperate. The kisses progress into something hot and wet and frantic and Klaus really wants to push it just a little further. 

“Mhm, but I could—” Ben murmurs between kisses, “—I could probably use a little more help. Or a lot—a lot more.” 

“Yeah?” Klaus asks. 

His hand slips lower to hold Ben’s bare thigh beneath his skirt. Klaus tugs his leg up to wrap around his waist, and slots his hips into place. 

“Maybe we should switch it up then. Give you a bit of a portfolio to choose from when the lucky guy finally comes around?” 

Ben moans, curling his leg around Klaus and bucking his hips up. “Mhm. Yeah, please.” 

Klaus starts to kiss across his cheek then down his neck. Ben’s clearly never had a hickey before so Klaus makes the executive decision to give him his first. He bites the skin just under Ben’s ear and Ben whines, more breath than voice, hugging Klaus close. 

While he sucks and licks at the spot he’s bruising, Klaus starts to roll his hips. If he weren’t pressing Ben against the wall with his entire body, Klaus thinks he might have fallen.

And fuck, he can’t help smiling at that. He’s constantly reminding himself that Ben is a virgin in every sense of the word and all these new experiences are bound to overwhelm him, but getting this sort of a reaction from him is boosting Klaus’ ego and audacity alike. 

Content that he’s left a good mark that’ll stick around for a few days, Klaus pulls back. His breathing is already laboured and seeing Ben lost and writhing in his own arousal only steals more air from his lungs. Klaus curls his hips up, quick and rough, against Ben and just watches his face contort in pleasure. It’s dark, but Klaus can still make out every detail—his eyelids are heavy and his eyebrows are drawn; his lips are parted and his throat bobs around a moan. 

_Now this_ , Klaus thinks, _is art_. 

Klaus shoves Ben’s tight little top up to his armpits, silently waiting for any reluctance before flicking one of his nipples back and forth with his thumb. 

Ben’s jaw drops, head falling back against the wall. 

Klaus draws back up, licking flat across Ben’s lip and cheek then nibbling his earlobe. “That feel good?” 

Ben’s nipple is hard under his thumb, chest arching gently. A whine crawls out of his throat and he nods. 

“Mm. You wanna try?” Klaus breathes into his ear. “Or should I keep it as a demonstration for now?” 

By this point, the pretence of practice is just that—a pretence. Klaus knows Ben is just aching to feel good; _he knows_ , and he’s more than willing to be the one giving it to him. A little selfishly, Klaus thinks he’s the best one for Ben to be having these new experiences with anyway. 

“I wanna try,” Ben says, swallowing hard. 

Klaus grins. “Perfect.” 

He takes Ben’s hand in his own and guides it up under his shirt to one nipple. 

“Now… like this,” Klaus hums. 

He rolls Ben’s nipple under his thumb and Ben copies him. It’s soft, almost tickling. Ben is playing with Klaus’ nipple like it’s a clit and _wow_ , that mental image runs straight to his cock, straining in his pants. 

“That’s great, Benny, that’s perfect,” Klaus groans. “A little harder.” 

Ben puts more weight behind it. “Fuck yes, like that. Now—pinch.” 

Ben awkwardly squeezes Klaus’ nipple between his fingertips, frowning. 

“Here,” Klaus murmurs, giving an example with his own hand. 

Ben hums and adjusts, focused on his task. Well… as focused as he can be while Klaus is dry-humping him. 

“There you go, and _pull_.” 

Ben pinches tighter and tugs until Klaus’ nipple slips out of his grasp. Klaus whimpers and drops his head onto Ben’s shoulder. 

“ _Shit_ , you’re doing great, baby,” he mumbles. 

Ben’s breath catches at that and Klaus files the nickname away for later use. He noses up along Ben’s jaw before drawing him into another kiss, pressing him harder up against the wall. His hands slip down to Ben’s hips, thumbs tucking beneath the waist of his skirt. That stupid, perfect little skirt has popped up more than once in Klaus’ fantasies. It just adds to Ben’s natural appeal—it makes him seem a little less innocent. Or… maybe _innocent_ isn’t the right word for him, considering the way Ben is moaning into Klaus’ mouth and desperately rocking his hips. But nevertheless, the skirt absolutely does it for Klaus. And now he’s aching for what’s underneath it. 

Klaus slides one hand around to cup Ben’s hard cock through the fabric and Ben swears, screwing his eyes shut. 

“Thoughts?” Klaus murmurs. He palms Ben slowly and deliberately, breaking down what’s probably the last of Ben’s lingering embarrassment. 

“Fuck, _please_ , Klaus.” 

If it were possible for Klaus to get any harder, _Ben begging for him_ would definitely be the thing to accomplish it. 

“Shit,” Klaus groans, pulling back to quickly scan the room. “…Come here.” 

They quickly untangle themselves and Klaus leads Ben over to one of the expensive looking black couches in the middle of the room, sinking back into it and patting his lap. Ben looks down at him for a moment, confused. 

“…How wide can you spread your legs?” Klaus asks, half a smile on his face. 

Ben hesitates before looking him dead in the eye and sliding into the splits with his hands on Klaus’ knees. 

It’s a miracle Klaus keeps himself from wheezing. “Sh—yeah, great. That’ll do,” he murmurs, chest tight. He takes a deep breathe while Ben pulls himself up. “So… Straddle my hips here.” 

Ben frowns. “I don’t… I’m not ready for…” 

Klaus blinks. Oh. 

“Oh! No, God, no, I’m not going to fuck you yet.” Klaus bites his lip too late. 

_Yet_. That wasn’t supposed to come out. 

To be honest, Klaus has never actually _had sex_ , in the traditional sense; it had always seemed a little too far to go just to distract himself. Because that’s all it’s been for Klaus over the last few years: finding distractions. Idle hands, and all that. But now, clearly in the absence of present thought, Klaus had decided that he will be _having sex_ with Ben one day and blurted as much out loud. 

Whether Ben overlooks it or just chooses to ignore it, the comment goes unmentioned. 

Instead, he nods shakily. “Okay. Okay.” He climbs into Klaus lap, straddle wide enough that their cocks can easily grind together. 

“Fuck, yes, Ben, perfect,” Klaus breathes. 

He looks up at Ben, whose hands have come to rest on Klaus’ shoulders, and can still faintly see the blush in his cheeks even if the pink has been dulled to grey in the darkness. Klaus grabs his ass and pulls Ben’s hips down at the same time and he pushes his up. They both moan weakly, faces just inches apart. Ben’s breath is hot on his cheeks and, yeah, it smells like beer, but it’s fucking perfect. 

It won’t take long for them to get off after this much build up, but Klaus is going to do with it what can. He moves his hands slowly up Ben’s thighs until they slip over the slick fabric of the shorts the cheerleaders all wear underneath their skirts. Ben’s breath catches in his throat but he keeps rolling his hips, grip tightening on Klaus’ shoulders. 

Klaus is glued to Ben’s expressions, eyes exploring one territory while his hands explore another. His fingers dip below the waist of his shorts and Klaus knows he’s never been this careful with anybody else, handling them like a fucking priceless artifact, but it’s what Ben needs and deserves right now. 

He wraps his hand around Ben’s cock and draws out a helpless moan. Ben licks his lips and looks down at Klaus like he’s everything. And in that moment, he might as well be. Klaus pulls his little shorts back over Ben’s erection and starts stroking him. 

“ _Klaus, oh my God—_ ” Ben chokes, dropping his head back. 

Klaus looks down at Ben’s lap and whines—his fist is moving over him slowly but it’s covered by the pleats of his skirt, adding an illusion of obscurity. And somehow, that makes it almost _more_ obscene. 

“You like it?” Klaus asks. He leans forward to drag his teeth over Ben’s collarbone. 

“Nn— _uh-huh_ ,” Ben whimpers, nodding. 

“Want some more?” 

Ben sobs quietly, biting his lip. “God, _please_.” 

Klaus undoes his pants and pulls out his own cock, red and hard and so fucking needy. 

Ben looks down and whimpers, erection twitching in Klaus’ hand. “ _K-Klaus_ …” 

Klaus grins. “Yes?” 

Ben doesn’t immediately slap him, which is how Klaus knows he’s well and truly rapt. 

“Do you want to touch?” 

Ben sucks his lip into his mouth and nods once, mesmerized. 

“Well I don’t have any lube, but…” Klaus spits into his palm before wrapping it back around Ben’s cock. “Like this.” 

Ben mimics him and Klaus is momentarily distracted by how red his lips are, shiny with spit. The only reason it’s _momentary_ is because when Ben’s hand curls around his cock, it immediately takes precedence over _absolutely everything else in the world_. 

Klaus drops his head back against the couch and _growls_ , low in his throat. “Shit, Ben. Okay, do you ever touch yourself, baby? At night, in your room?” 

Ben’s lip quivers and he nods. “Yeah, I’m—yes.” He bites off the rest of his answer and Klaus chuckles and presses a quick kiss to his lips. 

“It’s just like that, okay? Stroke my cock the way you like it.” Another peck. 

“Right,” Ben murmurs. 

He starts to move his hand down Klaus’ cock, sliding down to the base and drawing back up to the head, and Klaus _literally sees stars_. _Holy shit_. If it were anyone else straddling his lap, he’d call himself pathetic for getting so affected, but this _seems_ _so right_. 

“Am I doing alright?” Ben murmurs and Klaus gasps. 

“You’re doing—perfect. Don’t fucking stop, Ben,” he breathes. 

It clearly gives Ben a boost of confidence because he starts working faster, sliding his thumb over the head of Klaus’ cock and drawing out a hiss. _Jesus_ , he’s already close. Klaus lifts Ben’s skirt out of the way to give him more attention, and immediately stands corrected—seeing the flushed head of Ben’s cock slip out from his fist is _absolutely more obscene_. 

“ _Shit_ , baby. Look at you, you’re so hard.” 

Ben huffs. “ _So are you._ ” 

And Klaus has to laugh. “Shrewd observation. And why be hard alone when we could be hard together, hm?” 

One hand sneaks around to Ben’s ass and pulls him even closer, nudging their erections together. Then Klaus wraps his free hand around the both of them and Ben _wails_. There’s a moment of hesitation before Klaus kisses him during which Klaus files that sound away in some deep, dark, starving part of his brain. 

“It’s hot, right?” Klaus grins against his lips. 

His only response is a broken moan. 

“Here, put your hand on this side,” Klaus murmurs. 

He guides Ben’s hand to curl around the part where his fingers can’t quite meet, giving them a nice, tight circle to slides their cocks through; the sight alone is overwhelming. 

Klaus has to steady his voice to say, “Now move your hips. Fuck up into our hands, Ben.” 

Ben rocks his hips slowly. 

Okay, the drag of Ben’s cock against his is the hottest thing Klaus has ever felt and, unquestionably, _the hottest thing in the entire fucking world_. This won’t take long at all. 

“Klaus, oh my God. _Oh my God_.” 

Ben’s voice is _broken_. His nails are sharp where they’re digging into Klaus’ shoulder but the ache is so good. He starts to kiss Klaus’ face—his cheeks, his nose—then down his neck, growing hotter and rougher as he goes. He bites down just below Klaus’ pulse point and Klaus’ whole body jerks. _Fuck_. 

Very briefly, Klaus thinks about the fact that they’re in someone else’s house, on someone else’s couch where, realistically, any one of two hundred high school students could walk in on them jerking themselves off. It makes him moan louder, daring the universe to give him a little more drama. 

Next, he thinks about how this is _Ben_. _Benny_. The boy that was his everything for years and still sort of is. And he has his hand around Klaus’ cock and his teeth on Klaus’ neck and he’s moaning Klaus’ name like a prayer, and that in and of itself will be enough for Klaus to jerk off to until he fucking dies, even if they never do this again. 

Ben drops his head onto Klaus’ shoulder and whines, “God, I’m really— _I’m close_.” 

And thank fuck for that, because Klaus definitely isn’t going to last much longer. 

“Good, that’s good,” Klaus pants. “Come on, baby, come for me.” 

Ben’s hand squeezes tighter and the push of his hips turns rough and desperate. There’s the edge of a whine to every breath he takes and it’s driving Klaus _insane_. 

He dips his head to lick hot across Ben’s neck, then stops at his ear, nipping the lobe and breathing, “ _Let me see you fall apart._ ” 

Ben sobs when he comes, thighs squeezing tight around Klaus’ hips. His whole body is shivering and his face is tucked firmly into Klaus’ neck. 

“ _Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes_ ,” Klaus whispers, holding Ben tight through his orgasm. 

Between them, Klaus can see it—Ben coming hot and thick over both of their cocks, slicking the slide of their hands and Klaus falters. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he whines. His hips jerk and then he’s right there with Ben, coming with a gasp. “Ben, _holy shit_.” 

Ben is still rocking gently against him, body already heavy and tired. 

“So good, you’re so, _so good_ ,” Klaus sighs, throat tight. 

A little mumble of recognition warbles up from the head on his shoulder and Klaus sucks in a deep breath, letting the last of his orgasm shudder out of his bones. They sit like that in silence for a minute or two, just breathing each other in. Then Klaus helps Ben off his lap, letting him lie back on the couch and ease his legs out of their brutal stretch. 

“… _Wow_ ,” Klaus sighs. “All that because of a stupid little dare. You really got your money’s worth, Benny.” 

Klaus reaches across the couch to grab a tissue box off the side table. He wipes Ben off so he can tuck himself in before cleaning his own hands and dabbing at his shirt. 

“Yeah,” Ben replies, eyes downcast. “And it was… _wow_. I wouldn’t… I mean… We could—keep doing this, if you wanted?” 

Those are the magic words if ever Klaus heard them. 

“What, you think you need more practice?” Klaus teases. 

Ben hesitates. “I mean… yes. But I was thinking this could be just… for us. You know?” 

Klaus smirks. “My, my. Are you propositioning me?” 

Ben shrugs. 

Klaus continues, “Well, it’s not like you’re asking me out, is it?” 

Ben’s eyes go wide and the blush floods back into his cheeks. “No! No, just the sex, I mean,” he’s quick to say and Klaus’ heart falls a fraction. 

Obviously Ben wasn’t about to ask him on a date after getting a handjob at a house party. So Klaus smiles. “Just the sex sounds fucking perfect, Benny.” 

Ben relaxes, clearing his throat. “And it’s not going to be weird or anything?” 

Klaus waves a hand. “No, no, trust me. You’ve heard of _friends with benefits_ , right? It relieves tension and shit; totally normal.” 

Ben cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t think _normal_ is an adjective that can be applied to you.” 

Klaus sticks his tongue out. “So who’s breaking the news to Diego?” he hums. 

Ben laughs shortly then pauses and tilts his head. “Diego? What do you mean?” 

Klaus tosses the tissue over his shoulder. “He has a thing for you, right? You two are the impending “it” couple of the decade.” 

_“What?”_ Ben laughs again, disbelieving. “No… no. That’s just a rumour that Allison started.” 

Klaus quirks an eyebrow. “Oh? Great, I don’t have the personality to be a side piece.” 

Ben shakes his head with a fond smile. “I’m well aware. Anyway…” He climbs off the couch and starts straightening out his uniform. “I should… probably get back to the party. I’ve been gone a while.” 

Klaus clears his throat, disappointment dropping like a stone into his stomach. He doesn’t want Ben to leave him again. 

“Yeah,” he hums. “Yeah, right, of course. And I’m—I should get going.” 

He wants to kiss Ben goodnight, but feels like that would be a little more domestic than what Ben is looking for right now. They walk together to the top of the stairs then Klaus hesitates. 

“You go first, I’ll wait a few. Wouldn’t want to start any scalding gossip.” _That could ruin your reputation._ “See you in class on Monday,” he says with a little wave, other hand curled into a tight fist in his pocket. 

Ben smiles and waves back. Watching him slip back into the haze of the party is like watching Eurydice descend into the depths of Hades. 

…But Klaus has always had a flair for the dramatic. He knows Ben isn’t interested in him in that… _mythical, Greek romance_ sort of way. And that’s okay; it’s _more_ than okay. Ben is willing to share _something_ with him, something vulnerable, and Klaus would gladly travel to the underworld and back for that alone. God, this is exactly the kind of gooey, emotional shit Klaus tries to ignore at all costs; it’s _pointedly_ different when it’s coming from within himself, though. 

But all that aside, school is about to get _very_ _interesting_. 

Klaus starts tapping his foot. _What’s their first class on Monday? English? No… biology._

A grin spreads slowly across Klaus’ face. Oh, this could get _fun_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a collaboration between capyshota and blazeofglory! Born from a mutual need of Ben in a tiny skirt. 
> 
> Keep an eye on this one, y'all.


	2. the only one that needs to know

It’s kind of weird, sitting next to Klaus in biology like everything is normal. Everything is _not_ normal, not after what happened Saturday night. Ben can’t stop thinking about it, about the bass he could feel down to his bones and the way he’d been just drunk enough to feel _invincible_ , how his hands had been shaking and Klaus’s lips were so _soft_. Even yesterday, when Ben had been nursing a hangover in bed all day, he hadn’t been able to stop replaying the night in his head. 

In his head, he kisses Klaus again and again and _again_. 

Next to him at their lab table, Klaus nudges Ben with his elbow and grins when Ben looks over at him. Ben looks away immediately, a blush rising to his cheeks, sure that Klaus knows exactly what Ben’s been thinking about. And that begs the question: has Klaus been thinking about it too? Has Klaus been dreaming about kissing Ben again ever since their lips first touched? Ben wants to ask, but that would be showing his hand way too quickly-- Klaus doesn’t need to know that this is such a big deal to Ben. It’s just _casual_ to Klaus, and Ben needs to remember that. 

The classroom is dark, only the projector in the front of the room providing any light, and Mr. Pogo is explaining… something. Ben glances down at his notes to find where he’d stopped paying attention, only to find his notebook completely blank, save for the date written neatly at the top. He glances surreptitiously over at Klaus’s notebook, and he’s unsurprised to find Klaus doodling an intricate eyeball instead of taking diligent notes. Then, while Ben is already looking, he lets his eyes linger on Klaus’s long fingers wrapped around his pen-- fingers that Ben now knows so _intimately_. He shifts a little in his seat, willing himself not to get hard just remembering Klaus’s hands on him, and his eyes trail up slowly. 

Ben’s gaze pauses on Klaus’s lips, watching with rapt attention as Klaus lifts his pen to his mouth and slips it past his lips to bite the cap. God, Ben is _hard_ , and there’s absolutely no hiding it in his little uniform skirt, especially considering its eye-catching shade of red. As quietly as possible, Ben takes his varsity jacket out of his backpack and drapes it across his lap, bunched up to hide his boner. 

When he looks back up, Klaus is staring right at him, sucking on the cap of his pen. _Slowly_ , Klaus removes the pen, lips quirking up into a mischievous smile as he leans in close, so close that Ben can smell his coconut shampoo, and he whispers low in Ben’s ear, “I liked the view better without the jacket in the way.” 

If Ben hadn’t already been blushing, _that_ would’ve been enough to get it started again. 

“ _Klaus_ ,” he whispers back warningly, glancing around nervously-- they’re in the back corner of the dark classroom, with only Diego at the table in front of them, and everyone is too busy taking notes on Mr. Pogo’s lecture to pay them any mind. But _still_. 

“No one but me is gonna see,” Klaus says quietly, and then he reaches over and takes the jacket out of Ben’s lap. For a split second, Ben considers stopping him-- but he’s too curious; he wants to let this play out. Like most of Klaus’s ideas, it’s probably a very _bad_ idea, but Ben is used to getting swept up in Klaus’s schemes-- he’d been grounded for a _week_ after Klaus convinced him to sneak out when they were 12. 

Klaus looks down at the varsity jacket in his hands with a contemplative expression-- Ben is sure that he’s just going to set it aside, but. _But_. Klaus lifts the jacket, shakes out the wrinkles in the red fabric, and slips it on. Despite the fact that Klaus is a few inches taller, they’re almost the same size, and it looks _good_ on him, a bright contrast to his dark hair and black tshirt. Red is a good color on him. 

In Ben’s varsity jacket, Klaus looks like his fucking _boyfriend_ , and Ben’s heart skips a beat. 

Ben shifts, nervous and embarrassed and _hard_ , so obvious with only his spanks and short pleated skirt covering his boner. This cheerleading uniform was _not_ designed for someone with a cock, let alone a _hard_ cock. The bulge looks fucking obscene, stretching out his red silky spanks and peeking out from between the pleats of the skirt. Klaus stares down at Ben’s lap and actually, _literally_ licks his lips. 

The classroom is full of their peers, but no one has looked at them all period-- so Ben thinks, _fuck it._ He spreads his thighs, exposing himself to Klaus’s gaze even further, and the _look_ that Klaus gives him has Ben’s palms sweating. 

Again, Klaus leans in and his breath tickles Ben’s ear when he whispers, “If you don’t take your cock out, I might _die_.” 

Ben glances at him sharply, flushed dark red. 

Ben isn’t that kind of boy. He doesn’t _do_ these things-- he doesn’t kiss boys at parties, he doesn’t sneak off to the rooms upstairs, he doesn’t _fool around at school_. Ben is the kind of boy that’s the perfect cheerleader, the perfect student, who’s never late and doesn’t kiss on the first date. He’s the kind of boy that’s supposed to date a football player and lose his virginity on prom night. 

He shouldn’t be doing this. It’s reckless, they could get caught, they could be _suspended_ , they could be fuel for the rumor mill for _months_ , Ben could get kicked off the squad-- there are lots of reasons that Ben should _not_ let Klaus give him a handjob right now. 

Ben glances around the classroom one more time, not even bothering to try to find out what diagram Mr. Pogo is showing on the projector, and then his gaze comes back to Klaus. Klaus has his arm propped up on the table, leaning his head into his hand and watching Ben openly. Something about being the focus of Klaus’s attention, feeling the _heat_ in that gaze, gives Ben the confidence to shift up in his seat and pull his spanks down to mid-thigh in one smooth movement. 

Or, well, it _would_ have been smooth if his elbow hadn’t banged right into the table. Luckily, it isn’t _too_ loud, and Ben manages to hold back his gasp of pain-- but still, Diego turns around, and Ben is immeasurably glad that the lab table is hiding the fact that _his cock is out_. Diego looks between the two of them, Ben red-faced and Klaus barely holding back laughter, then rolls his eyes and turns back around without even asking. Ben lets out a breath in relief. 

As quietly as possible, Klaus shifts his chair closer to Ben’s, ‘til their thighs are pressed together, Ben’s bare leg brushing against Klaus’s jeans, raising goosebumps on his skin at the contact. He feels so exposed, with his skirt just barely covering his erection and his spanks pulled down. Just a few _days_ ago, he hadn’t even been kissed yet, and now here he is, spreading his legs and exposing his cock while Klaus watches with hungry eyes. Klaus wastes no time in reaching over, casually slipping his hand under Ben’s pleats and grasping his cock. It’s all Ben can do to hold back a moan. It feels so _good_ , filthy and delicious and _hot_. 

“You should be paying attention in class,” Klaus whispers, hand moving slowly over Ben’s cock. “Pogo said this shit would be on the final.” 

Ben lets out a shaky breath and says, as quietly as he can, “I guess I’ll have to borrow Diego’s notes.” 

“You’re learning much more important things right now,” Klaus murmurs, picking up the pace, and Ben feels hot all over. He’s already short of breath, and he wonders if anyone can _hear_ them-- the sound of skin on skin, Klaus’s hand moving over Ben’s cock, it seems so _loud_ to Ben. He’s sure he’ll be replaying these sounds in his fantasies for at least the next straight week. “Besides, it’s _biology_ , I’m just providing a hands-on demonstration.” 

“I’m pretty sure we’re covering cell division, not anatomy,” Ben whispers, then immediately has to put a hand over his mouth to stifle a moan when Klaus moves his thumb over the head of his cock. Eager and too turned on to be embarrassed about it, Ben spreads his legs as far as he can with his spanks still around his thighs. Klaus takes the invitation, stroking faster, and _fuck_ , this isn’t going to last very long. 

Ben leans forward, folding his arms on the table and putting his head down, attempting to hide his flushed, sweaty face and muffle his gasping breaths. He can’t believe this is _happening_ , this whole friends with benefits situation, let _alone_ the fact that it’s happening in the middle of school in the middle of the fucking day. Anyone could turn around and see them, see Klaus biting his lip and moving his arm _like that_ , see Ben hiding his face and shifting his hips up, and they would _know_ what’s happening. Allison, his fucking cheer captain, is in this class-- if she sees this, Ben could be off the squad in one snap of her perfectly manicured fingers. If _anyone_ see this, they’ll know just how fucking desperate Ben is for Klaus. 

The thought of someone catching them is awful and embarrassing, and it’s _really turning Ben on_. 

“ _Klaus_ ,” Ben whispers, unable to keep silent even though he’s _trying_. He can hardly think anymore, not with Klaus touching him like that. He’s going to come. He’s going to _come_ , sitting in a hard plastic seat at a lab table, in the back of Mr. Pogo’s boring biology lecture, with _Klaus’s hand on his cock_. How is this not just a wet dream? 

Ben lets out a shaky breath, hips jerking up, and he whispers, as quietly as he can, “ _Klaus_.” 

“Yeah, Benny,” Klaus murmurs, moving his hand faster. “Come on.” 

Ben bites his own bicep to keep himself from moaning outright, and he risks a glance at Klaus over his folded arms. Klaus looks… 

Klaus looks focused, concentrated, dark eyes fixed on his hand moving over Ben’s cock. He looks _rapturous_. That look on Klaus’s face isn’t one that Ben’s ever seen before, not even the other night-- though he might’ve been too drunk and focused on kissing then. It’s the kind of look he would expect to see if, maybe, Klaus was working on a painting-- something big, and beautiful, and close to his heart. Something that inspires passion and, and, the word hits Ben suddenly: _awe_. Klaus looks like he’s in awe. 

If Ben was naive, he’d think that Klaus looks in _love_. And maybe that’s true, just a little bit-- maybe Klaus just really, _really_ loves giving handjobs. That must be all this is. 

Ben’s eyes slip shut again and he bites down harder and he _comes_. He doesn’t think about biology class, he doesn’t think about Diego in hearing distance, he doesn’t think about how he’s going to make a mess-- all he thinks about is that _look_ on Klaus’s face. That look is going to haunt him, it’s going to sustain him, and _fuck_ , he feels so fucking good, hot all over and gasping for air as he comes down from the orgasm high. 

Klaus chuckles quietly, withdrawing his hand, and everything rushes back to Ben as he picks his head up. Mr. Pogo is still droning on and everyone else is still taking notes, and somehow, mercifully, no one seems to have noticed what just happened. Ben blushes anyway, quickly pulling his spanks back up-- thankfully without banging his elbow this time. 

“Ben,” Klaus whispers, drawing Ben’s attention away from smoothing down his hair and wondering how it had even gotten out of place. He glances over to see Klaus grinning, eyes bright, and gesturing under the desk with a hand covered in Ben’s come. “Got a tissue?” 

“I-- yeah, one second,” Ben whispers back, face bright red as he fumbles in his backpack for his little travel-sized package of tissues. He hands a few to Klaus, who smirks as he wipes his palm clean. 

“I was careful not to get your pretty uniform dirty,” Klaus whispers, reaching over to adjust the pleats of Ben’s skirt to lay flat again, fingertips brushing over Ben’s covered cock. “If I did, I’d probably feel guilty and foot the dry cleaning bill, and you and I both know I can’t afford such a luxury.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Ben replies, starting to smile. “God, I can’t believe we--” 

The bell rings, sudden and loud, and they both jump. 

“Good timing,” Klaus quips, no longer quiet now that everyone else is talking too as they pack up, and then he’s slipping his arms out of Ben’s varsity jacket and passing it back to him. “I can’t walk out of here wearing that, people would think I’m your boyfriend or something.” 

Right. Because Klaus _isn’t_ his boyfriend. 

“Of course,” Ben says, looking away as he stuffs the jacket into his backpack. Their classmates are quickly filtering out of the room, but Ben and Klaus are lingering, still both in their seats. Ben can’t help but let his eyes dart down, and-- _yes_ , Klaus is hard in his jeans. The sight of it makes Ben’s mouth go dry. 

Klaus shifts a little in his seat, glancing at the clock on the wall, and he makes a disgruntled face that Ben finds weirdly cute. 

“Do you-- I mean, I--” Ben bites his lip, darting his eyes down to Klaus’s crotch pointedly. “I wanna give you a hand with… with that.” 

“I’m pretty sure you have world history in four minutes, and I have plans with myself to go smoke weed in the parking lot,” Klaus points out, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ll take a raincheck.” 

Ben hesitates. He should agree and he should _go_. He’s a _good student_ ; he’s on the honor roll, for god’s sake. 

“I want to skip class,” Ben says quickly, grinning when Klaus’s eyes widen in surprise. He stands abruptly, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, and he offers Klaus a hand up. “I can think of something better to do.” 

“I’m a terrible influence on you,” Klaus replies, taking Ben’s hand in his own sticky palm, and standing too. Ben wants nothing more than to lace their fingers together and walk out into the hallway like that-- but that’s not what this is. They’re just _friends_. Friends don’t hold hands, even though friends do, apparently, mess around at parties and in classrooms. Reluctantly, Ben lets go, and he looks away awkwardly as Klaus adjusts his boner. “What _exactly_ do you have in mind?” 

Ben shrugs, giving Klaus a smile that he hopes comes across as coy instead of conveying the simple fact that he hasn’t decided where they’re going yet. “Just follow me.” 

Luckily, the hallways are mostly empty, which is a relief-- Ben’s not sure what he would say to Allison if he ran into her while he was _with Klaus_ and she asked him why he hadn’t sat next to her in class like usual. After everything that happened Saturday night, Ben really doesn’t need to give Allison any reason to think that there’s something going on between him and Klaus other than one very public kiss, even though there is. And, really, Allison is Ben’s best friend now-- he feels _bad_ that he’s hiding this from her; but Allison loves secrets a little too much for Ben to feel comfortable telling her about this one. The last thing he needs is to watch her leaning over and whispering to the other cheerleaders, one perfectly manicured hand held up to cover her mouth while she speaks _just_ above a whisper about whatever newest rumor she’s heard. 

Ben’s made it to senior year without enduring any salacious rumors, and he’d like to keep it that way. So far, the only gossip he’s ever heard about himself is that some people are under the impression that he’s dating Diego, and that isn’t exactly an insult. If they _were_ dating, they’d probably get elected dual prom kings or something equally ridiculous, like the cringiest possible episode of _Glee_. If Ben was fooling around with Diego, he would’ve called Allison Sunday morning and told her every last detail, and he wouldn’t have cared that the rest of the squad would’ve known about it by school Monday morning. But with Klaus, it’s different. It’s really, really different. 

Ben’s worked too hard on his reputation to risk it all senior year. 

“The drama kids are out on a field trip today,” Ben says quietly, leading the way down the hall without waiting for Klaus to follow. He glances over his shoulder at the other boy, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “That means the bathroom in the auditorium is empty.” 

“The _auditorium_ is also empty,” Klaus responds with a wicked grin, hurrying up to keep in step with Ben, and for just a _second_ , their pinky fingers brush. “Let’s live _dangerously_.” 

“You’re insane,” Ben says with an easy laugh. He glances over at Klaus as they walk, blushing and smiling. “I’m not going to-- to blow you in the _auditorium_.” 

Klaus stumbles for a second, tripping over thin air, but Ben keeps him upright with a hand on his elbow, and they’re suddenly standing very, very close. 

“You really wanna do that?” Klaus asks, voice quiet even though they’re very much alone in this deserted stretch of hallway. There are voices in the distance, hundreds of their classmates tucked away in their classrooms, and Ben should be with them-- but he’s glad to be out here with Klaus. AP World History can’t hold a candle to the reverent look in Klaus’s eye. 

“Yes,” Ben answers honestly, eyes darting down to Klaus’s pink lips. Klaus made Ben _come_ just ten minutes ago, and yet they haven’t kissed since Saturday night. Ben wants to change that. “I want to try _everything_.” 

“Everything?” Klaus echoes, eyebrow raised. He takes a step back, and Ben lets out a quiet breath. “Let’s go, Ben, I’m _dying_ to see this bathroom.” 

A few minutes later, Ben casts a wary glance around before pushing open the door to the auditorium men’s bathroom. As expected, it’s empty-- the light hasn’t even been turned on, so Ben flicks the switch and turns to Klaus with a triumphant grin, hands on his hips. “Will this do?” 

Klaus looks around, as if appraising the space, though Ben’s sure he’s used this bathroom before. It’s just like all the other school bathrooms-- gray tile floor that was once white, two stalls covered in graffiti that gets painted over during winter break every year, two dirty mirrors, and two sinks that barely function. Ben thinks longingly of the comfortable couch in the room at the party over the weekend-- but this’ll work in a pinch. 

“It’s perfect,” Klaus declares, then he drops his backpack by the door, and Ben quickly does the same. Klaus steps closer, all long limbs and green eyes and easy confidence, and Ben wants to _kiss_ him. It occurs to him now that there’s no reason not to-- so he does. 

Ben drapes his arms over Klaus’s shoulders and Klaus puts his hands on Ben’s waist, inching under the fabric of his uniform top and settling on his bare skin, and when their lips meet, it’s exactly the kind of kiss that Ben expects from a teen movie. It’s slow and it’s perfect, Klaus’s lips soft against Ben’s, and then all at once, it’s _filthy_. Klaus bites Ben’s bottom lip and then licks his way into Ben’s mouth, and Ben shifts closer, his thigh slotting between Klaus’s and pressing up against his hard cock, and they both moan into the kiss. 

“God, Ben,” Klaus breathes out when they part, and Ben can’t resist running his fingers through Klaus’s hair. “I’ve wanted to get my hands on you in that skirt for _years_.” 

If Ben were more coherent, he’d be confused and delighted about the prospect of Klaus fantasizing about him at all, let alone for _years_ , but he hardly registers the comment-- he’s too busy pushing Klaus backward into one of the stalls and fumbling with the lock behind him. 

Klaus kisses Ben again, deep and hot, and Ben wants Klaus so fucking _much_. Boldly, he reaches between them, cupping Klaus’s erection through his jeans and squeezing gently. Klaus swears under his breath, pulling away from the kiss only to press his hot lips to Ben’s neck, mouthing at the hickey he’d left the other night, which Ben had hastily covered with borrowed makeup, and Ben moans. 

“Klaus,” Ben moans. “Wait, I need--” 

“What do you need, baby?” Klaus murmurs, dragging his teeth over Ben’s neck and eliciting a shiver. 

“I need…” Ben trails off, blushing, and he decides to just _do it_ instead of talking about it any more. He gently pushes Klaus back, and then he holds eye contact as he slowly sinks to his knees. The tile won’t be good on his knees that are already scraped up from a fall in practice a few days ago, and he’ll probably scuff his white sneakers, but Ben doesn’t fucking care. He fumbles with Klaus’s belt buckle, fingers too eager to be dexterous, ‘til Klaus takes pity on him and undoes the belt himself. 

“You’re fucking perfect,” Klaus says as he unzips and unbuttons his jeans and Ben looks up at him with wide eyes. This is really happening. _Fuck_ , this is really happening, Ben is about to _suck Klaus’s dick._

“I doubt it’ll be _perfect_ ,” Ben replies, then bites his lip nervously. “What if it’s too big?” 

“I’m flattered,” Klaus quips, grinning, and Ben rolls his eyes. “Just… pretend it’s a popsicle. Do your best. You can do backflips, Benny. I’m pretty sure you can suck a dick.” 

Ben rolls his eyes, but _somehow_ , Klaus’s words actually are making him feel better. His fingers are shaking just a little as he slowly tugs down Klaus’s jeans, revealing his neon green briefs. He looks up, brow quirked, and Klaus just shrugs shamelessly. Ben is about to say something teasing, but then Klaus reaches down and pushes down the briefs, and then there’s a _dick_ in Ben’s _face_. 

If Ben thinks about it too much, he’s going to psych himself out, and then this is never going to happen. But he’s already here-- he’s on his knees in the school bathroom, skipping class, and Klaus’s dick is out. He’s not gonna be a coward now. 

Klaus laces his fingers through Ben’s hair and Ben leans in, wrapping one hand around the base of Klaus’s cock, and then he _licks_ the head. Klaus moans immediately, hips jerking forward without meaning to, and his cock bumps Ben’s parted lips. 

“Sorry,” Klaus murmurs, petting Ben’s hair in apology. 

Ben takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and takes a few inches of Klaus’s cock inside. It feels _weird_ , but not necessarily in a bad way-- there’s something satisfying about the weight on his tongue and the stretch of his lips. He can taste a drip of precum on his tongue and he sort of _likes_ it. Ben breathes through his nose, deep and measured, and his eyes slip shut, and he starts to _suck._

“ _Fuck_ ,” Klaus moans loudly, his voice echoing in the empty bathroom. His fingers tighten in Ben’s hair, and it feels so _good_. Ben is adjusting quickly, and though he doesn’t take much in his mouth for fear of choking, he starts to find a rhythm with his hand and mouth working in tandem. He licks the head of Klaus’s cock, laving over the slit and savoring the sharp taste, and he moans every time Klaus pulls his hair. 

The tile floor is hell on Ben’s knees, but it’s easy to ignore when his whole world is narrowed down to Klaus’s hands in his hair and Klaus’s cock in his mouth. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible, and Ben delights in the way that Klaus moans his name. Ben is distantly aware that he’s hard _again_ , unbelievably turned on by every inch of Klaus’s lean body and every beautiful, needy sound that escapes from Klaus’s lips. If anyone came into the bathroom right now, there’d be no disguising _exactly_ what’s going on-- Klaus is just moaning and _moaning_ , and Ben keeps making desperate noises muffled around the cock in his mouth. It’s all so loud, so obscene, Ben almost can’t believe that this is happening-- but he can’t have dreamt it up; even his most depraved fantasies have never included being _in a school bathroom_. 

“Fucking hell, Ben,” Klaus gasps, tugging at Ben’s hair, hips shifting forward. “Are you-- _fuck_ \-- are you sure you’ve never done this before? Do you, uh, practice on rocket pops or something? You’re so _good_ at this.” 

Ben pulls off for a second, breathing heavily, and he opens his eyes to peer up at Klaus. Klaus is _flushed_ , pupils blown, and his cock is so _red_ and _wet_ from Ben’s mouth. Unlike most teenage boys he knows, Ben’s never really been all that into porn-- it’s always kinda freaked him out, seeing huge veiny dicks fucking into gaping assholes, and he never really sees the appeal of watching strangers touch each other. He always ends up wondering if these guys even like each other, if they’re really enjoying what they’re doing, and that just takes him right out of the mood. He’s never seen a dick online and thought, _I’d really like that in my mouth_. 

But seeing Klaus’s dick, just an inch away from his lips, long and red and dripping precum-- Ben wants it back in his mouth. 

“It’s a natural talent, I guess,” Ben says, pressing a soft kiss to the dripping head, and Klaus makes a soft, wounded noise. “Just like doing backflips.” 

Ben’s spent _countless hours_ practicing his backflips and roundoffs and handsprings. He doesn’t think he’d mind spending just as much time practicing _this_ with Klaus. 

Klaus starts to laugh, but it trails off into a loud moan almost immediately, as Ben takes his cock back into his mouth, sucking hard. He starts moving his hand faster and licking as much as he can reach, and he thinks he feels drool, or maybe precum, dripping down his chin, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is Klaus and the amazing noises that he’s making and the way he gasps out, “Ben, I’m gonna come. Fuck, _fuck_ , I’m gonna come.” 

With gentle fingers in Ben’s hair, Klaus pulls Ben off his cock. Ben, breathing heavily, frowns up at him, even while still moving his hand. 

“I wanted to swallow,” Ben says, voice coming out a _lot_ whinier than he meant it to. 

“Not your first time,” Klaus replies, breathless, hips jerking up into Ben’s grip. “ _Ben_ , god, can I come on your face?” 

Ben flushes bright red immediately, so fucking hard in his spanks, and he nods eagerly.

“Close your eyes,” Klaus says, and Ben does immediately. “Good. Now just-- yeah, like _that_.” 

One of Klaus’s hands covers Ben’s on his cock, and he guides Ben into stroking him faster, harder, just a few more times, and then-- Klaus moans, “ _Ben!”_ and he comes hard, splashing across Ben’s face. Ben gasps at the feeling, streaks hitting both his cheeks and just missing his eyes, and then he feels the tip of Klaus’s cock pressed to his open lips, and he licks at the head one last time before Klaus draws back and Ben opens his eyes. He knows he must look completely fucking _debauched_ , but Klaus has that awed look on his face again, and Ben finds himself smiling brightly. 

“How’d I do?” Ben asks, then clears his throat when his voice comes out a little hoarse. “Was I-- was it good?” 

“You’re so fucking good. A-fucking-plus, baby,” Klaus replies, and then he cups Ben’s face with a gentle hand, sliding his thumb through the come on Ben’s cheek. And then… Ben opens his mouth again as Klaus slides the thumb into Ben’s mouth, and he licks the come. 

Klaus withdraws his thumb slowly, and Ben makes a face as he swallows. 

“I’m not sure I love the taste,” Ben says, frowning, suddenly glad that Klaus didn’t let him swallow, and Klaus laughs. 

“You’ll get used to it,” Klaus replies, and Ben flushes at the implication. Klaus offers Ben a hand and he takes it, standing up and stumbling a little. His knees are _sore_. 

“I’m a mess,” Ben points out, still blushing, and Klaus just smiles. 

“Close your eyes again,” Klaus says, and again, Ben complies immediately. A second later, he feels rough one-ply toilet paper gently wiping his cheeks and his chin, and then soft lips on his as Klaus kisses him again. Ben melts into it, pressing closer, and he hears a quiet rustling as Klaus tucks his dick back into his briefs and tugs his jeans back up. 

Ben reluctantly breaks the kiss, pressing their foreheads together, and whispers, “We should probably go, in case someone comes in…” 

“Not yet,” Klaus replies immediately, backing Ben up against a wall, and he’s suddenly, _viscerally_ reminded of being in this exact position Saturday night. Klaus slots a thigh between Ben’s, pressing up against his erection, and Ben _groans_. “You really wanna leave with your dick hard in those little shorts? Your skirt doesn’t hide very much, baby.” 

“I-- it’ll go away in a minute,” Ben says, hiding his face in Klaus’s neck. “I just gotta… focus on something else. Like the time I hit the mailman while my mom was teaching me to drive.” 

Klaus chuckles, shifting his thigh again, and Ben grinds down against it. “Just focus on _this_. You want me to suck you off too, don’t you? Don’t you wanna know what it’s like?” 

“God,” Ben moans, hips moving faster. “Yeah, Klaus, _please_.” 

“It feels _amazing_ ,” Klaus murmurs, pressing hot kisses to Ben’s neck as Ben gasps, hands flying up to grasp Klaus’s shoulders. “I love having a cock in my mouth, I really do. I haven’t even gotten to lick it yet, but yours is already my _favorite_.” 

Ben _wants_ it; the idea of Klaus on his knees is fucking intoxicating, and Ben thinks he may die if it doesn’t happen immediately-- he’s so fucking _hard_ , so wound up from giving Klaus that blowjob, and-- Klaus presses up harder and Ben grinds down, and Ben _comes_. He hadn’t even realized he was so _close_ ; it hits him suddenly, head thrown back and hitting the bathroom stall as he gasps and clutches at Klaus’s shoulders with white knuckles and he comes in his spanks. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Klaus whispers, moving his leg back, and Ben loosens his grip. Klaus cups Ben’s face and kisses him softly, Ben still breathing hard. “ _Benny_ , fuck, that was so hot.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” Ben mumbles, embarrassed despite the praise. He shifts a little, making a face-- his spanks are all _wet_ now, and it’s quickly growing uncomfortable. 

“That’s okay,” Klaus reassures quickly, gently stroking Ben’s face. “There are gonna be _plenty_ of opportunities for me to suck your dick at a later date.” 

Ben snorts, starting to smile again. “But _still_ , I came in my pants, like--” 

“Like a teenager?” Klaus suggests, and Ben laughs. “Really, don’t worry. I think it’s hot.” 

“ _You’re_ hot,” Ben mumbles, and Klaus lets out a delighted _giggle_ that Ben immediately files away to remember forever. They may not be boyfriends, but Ben gets to savor all of this-- Klaus’s giggles and his moans, his hands on Ben’s face and in his hair, and all the sweet little words that Klaus has been piling onto Ben, casual as anything. Klaus’s attention, Klaus’s _affection_ , feels better than Ben has ever imagined-- and that’s saying a lot, considering how much he’s been imagining what it would be like to date Klaus ever since they were 12-year-old best friends. 

How far they’ve come-- several years of being apart, and now they’ve _literally_ come together. Their friends with benefits situation is kind of _weird_ , and it’s not really enough, but Ben is enjoying every goddamn second of it. Klaus _giggles_ and Ben laughs too, and then they’re kissing again. 

“I have no idea how long we’ve been in here,” Klaus says a while later, his lips just a breath away from Ben’s. “We got a little… carried away.” 

“Sorry,” Ben replies, grinning with kiss-swollen lips, and he knows that Klaus knows that he’s not actually sorry at all. This is the best school day he’s had in… literally _ever_. Even the days he’s been given a free pass to skip class to attend cheer competitions all pale in comparison. Apparently sucking dick is even _better_ than winning a trophy, which is saying a lot-- Ben loves to _win_. “We should clean up.” 

“You’re the only one that’s _messy_ ,” Klaus quips, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I bet you have a clean pair of those little shorts in your locker, though, right?” 

“Yeah,” Ben agrees, relieved, and he follows Klaus out of the stall, smoothing down his top where it had gotten rucked up from Klaus’s hands. Just as he looks in the mirror to start trying to fix his hair, his face falls. “Wait, _no_. I had to wash my back-up uniform last week and it’s… still laying on the chair in my room. _Fuck_.” 

Klaus offers a sympathetic wince, eyes darting down to the wet spot on the front of Ben’s spanks, and Ben blushes furiously as he quickly adjusts the pleats to cover it. 

“Look on the bright side,” Klaus says, eyes bright with amusement. “Only five more hours of school to go?” 


	3. we're burning down the highway skyline

Klaus slides his picture from the developer into the fix and hums critically as the image begins to bloom across the page. He shifts the tray back and forth; he might have exposed it for just a second too long. 

Ever since the party, Klaus’ creativity has skyrocketed—photography, graphite, watercolour, you name it. Everything feels more alive under his fingers in a way it hasn’t since he was a kid. It’s been keeping him busy, that’s for sure, and the longer he stays away from home, the better. 

It’s… Klaus squints up at the clock. …half past five, now. All the students will be gone, and most of the staff too. 

Klaus’ photo grows darker and darker as the seconds tick on. Alright, maybe it was  _ a few seconds _ overexposed. He clicks his tongue and checks the clock, giving it its last ten seconds before pegging it up on the drying line anyway. 

The little string of red lights pinned beneath the clock provides just enough light for Klaus to make his way along this wall to the sink to wash his hands but his eyes are straining when he reaches for another piece of photo paper. Christ, he should really start eating more carrots. He slips the page under the enlarger and sets the exposure dial lower. 

A distinct squeak tells Klaus someone’s just opened the first door into the darkroom and he swears under his breath. The art teachers usually book it out of here as soon as class is done, but Klaus has been caught in here before and given a tongue-lashing for misuse of school property. Klaus flicks the switch on the enlarger and counts along with the timer. The second door opens but he doesn’t bother looking up. 

“Inspiration struck,” he murmurs. “If you tell me to leave, you’ll be stifling the creativity of a poor underprivileged student and I don’t think you can live with that on your conscience.” The machine clicks off. 

“I would never stand in the way of great art.” 

Klaus freezes. He looks up. Ben is biting back a smile and leaning up against the door with his arms crossed. 

“Finally, someone who understands my tortured artistic soul,” Klaus sighs. 

Ben snorts and tilts his head. “Are you supposed to be in here?” 

“Definitely not,” Klaus grins. He carries his page across the room and slips it into the developer then leans against the table. “Which means neither are you, you deviant. What are you still doing at school, anyway?” 

Ben pushes off from the door and skips over to the bins of developer. “Cheer practice,” he murmurs, sticking his finger in one of the trays. “We were trying out some new jumps with our basket tosses today so it ran a little late.” 

Klaus hums, eyes sliding down Ben’s body. He’s holding himself differently than usual. Both feet are arched, pushing Ben up onto his toes—which really outlines the muscles in his calves—and his back is bowed, just enough to emphasize the curve of his ass. It’s  _ flirty _ . Klaus looks back up to his face, innocent as anything while he examines the developing chemicals. 

“Well…” Klaus starts, “I don’t know what a  _ basket toss _ is, but  _ that’s _ acetic acid, so you might want to wash your hands.” 

Ben grimaces. He strides over to the sink and Klaus  _ very deliberately _ looks at his ass as he goes. 

“God, this room is so—” 

“Dark?” Klaus murmurs, and hopes Ben can hear the grin in his voice. “Who would’ve thought?” 

Ben shakes the water off his hands and turns back to glare at Klaus. “ _A basket toss_ ,” Ben says pointedly, “is when the bases toss up and catch the flyer. The jumps are tricks that the flyer does in the air; flips and stuff.” He starts moving in Klaus’ direction, hips swaying noticeably. 

Klaus pushes off of the desk to stand at his full height. Ben is a few inches shorter than him and there’s something inherently arousing in being able to look down at him like this. 

“So, you know,” Ben hums casually, “it takes some serious flexibility.” 

“Is that right?” Klaus murmurs, lips twitching. He can’t say with any certainty that this is Ben’s first time trying to sell himself as a sexual being, but Klaus is eating up every second of it regardless. “And what else is this masterful flexibility good for?” 

Ben’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and he looks exceedingly pleased with himself when Klaus’ gaze is drawn to it. “Lots of things. So I hear.” 

“Who have you been hearing that from?” 

Ben grins and curls his fingers around the bottom of his skirt. “Just… people.” He starts to slide the skirt up his thigh and Klaus watches for a few moments before lifting his gaze with a fully-fledged smirk. 

“Am I being seduced?” he purrs. 

Ben shrugs modestly. “Depends on if it’s working.” 

_ It’s definitely working _ . 

“You know, you’ve really got the whole  _ coy innocence _ thing going for you, Benny. It’s pretty hot.” 

Ben chews on his lower lip then lets it slip out from between his teeth, red and plump and slick with spit. “Really?” 

Klaus swallows. His cock reacts exactly the way he expects it to, throbbing between his legs while heat flares to life in his chest. 

“No,” he breathes. “No, I take it back. It’s  _ super _ fucking hot.” 

Ben ducks his head, lips pursed to hide a smile. And just like that, Klaus can feel his heart bounding in his chest; his blood is singing. He wants to pinch himself— _ Ben hasn’t even done anything _ . And Klaus supposes that’s the essence of it, isn’t it? By doing the bare minimum of  _ existing _ , Ben has utterly ruined Klaus. 

The words “lost cause” spring to mind. He’s been called that before but never in this way—never because of the way his pulse races hopelessly when he sees Ben blush, or smile, or come. 

Klaus surprises himself by laughing, a bright, bubbly sound that he doesn’t get to make very often. “You are  _ so cute _ .” 

Even in the darkroom, he can see Ben’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. Disbelief looks good on him, Klaus thinks idly. 

“I’m— _ me? _ ” 

“Shit, no, sorry,” Klaus waves a dismissive hand, “I was talking to that brazen little vixen standing behind you.” 

Ben blinks up at him once. Twice. 

Then Klaus rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Yes, Benny.  _ You _ .” 

Maybe  _ cute _ isn’t the kind of word you’re supposed to use to describe your former-best-friend-turned-casual-sex-partner, but Klaus is a big fan of crushing conventions under his heel anyway. 

The only things casting any light across Ben’s face are a handful of red bulbs and a string of old Christmas lights, but Klaus is certain his cheeks are burning a similar shade of crimson. 

Klaus catches one of Ben’s hands in his and brings it up to his lips, kissing each of his knuckles in turn, followed by his fingertips. They’re freezing, and whether that’s from practicing outside in November or the tap water, which perpetually runs cold, Klaus isn’t sure. 

“You’re adorable,” he murmurs, lips brushing the pad of Ben’s ring finger. “In your top and that little skirt…” 

Ben shivers. Klaus’ gaze is heavy, he knows it is, because he wants Ben to  _ feel it  _ wrapping around his neck and over his chest and between his legs. There’s already a noticeable bulge at the front of his skirt and Klaus lets his gaze sit there for a few long seconds, before dragging back up to Ben’s eyes. 

“I love seeing you like this.” 

The fingers twitch against his lips. Ben breathes, “Like what?” 

Honestly, Klaus could say almost anything and it would be true. Here; living; breathing. 

“Horny,” he murmurs. “And desperate.”  _ For me _ , he almost tacks on to the end. “I want to just… just let you have  _ everything _ when you give me that fucking look, Ben.” 

A shuddering breath gives away that last bit of emotion Klaus can’t quite make out in the dark. It’s a deep, roiling want that Klaus is getting used to recognizing and even more used to satiating. 

Ben draws the tip on his nail across Klaus’ lower lip. “…So why don’t you?” 

The smirk that creeps across Klaus’ face is wicked. His tongue flicks out and swipes over the pads of two of Ben’s fingers. 

“You make a compelling argument,” Klaus says. 

He sucks two of Ben’s fingers into his mouth, which earns him a surprised squeak. They taste like soap and sweat, and if it were anybody else, Klaus would grimace. But it’s not  _ anyone else _ , and Klaus wants to suck on Ben’s fingers until they’re pruned. Held stiff and pressed flat to his tongue, they slide easily to the back of his mouth. 

Ben whimpers, melting a little further into Klaus. “ _ Klaus _ , you—” 

He bites down gently and swallows around the fingers. The rest of Ben’s sentence falls off his tongue, replaced by a breathless little groan. 

“God, this… shouldn’t be as hot as it is.” 

Klaus hums, running his tongue along whatever he can reach. There’s no rhyme or reason to his actions other than  _ make Ben feel good, impress Ben, show Ben how well you can take care of him _ . He urges Ben’s fingers apart and licks up between them. The tip of his tongue flicks back and forth over the tender bit of webbing near his palm and pulls another weak sound from Ben. The hand that isn’t on Ben’s wrist lands on his waist and tugs him closer until they’re nearly chest to chest, then wraps around to his ass. A single firm squeeze has Ben falling into Klaus. 

The hand not currently being sucked on clings to his t-shirt tightly and his chin tucks over Klaus’ shoulder. Both fingers in Klaus mouth curl up, knuckles pressing into the roof of his mouth, and Klaus takes the opportunity to suck on them like a lollipop. He bobs up then back down again, letting his tongue drag. Slowly, he pulls Ben’s fingers from his parted lips, feeling the string of spit split and stick to his chin. 

“If you liked that this much,” Klaus murmurs, turning to speak into Ben’s ear, “I  _ can’t wait _ to see what you think of this next part.” 

Ben pulls him closer with a helpless whimper. “You’re so…” he breathes, “so…” 

“Dashing?” Klaus offers. “Talented? Unparalleled?” 

“ _ Fucking hot _ .” 

“Mm, I’ll take that, too.” Klaus purrs. 

He guides Ben’s hand up the side of his face and into his hair. The spit-slick on his fingers smears along Klaus’ cheek until all five fingers curl into his hair, and he urges Ben away from his shoulder. He cups Ben’s cheek in his hand and finally— _ finally _ —he kisses Ben. It holds all the sexual repression of two horny teenagers who haven’t gotten off in what feels like forever. 

Klaus closes his eyes and thinks about… them. The two of them in class, only allowing themselves to sit together once every little while. The eye contact they make, just for a split-second, when they pass each other in the halls. It’s  _ illicit _ . And it feels so good, embracing a taboo; God knows that’s one of Klaus’ favourite pastimes. But it’s also frustrating, and these rare moments when they have the tentative promise of secrecy are worth their weight in gold. 

Ben has made incredible progress since the party. He knows how to flick his tongue, how deep to let it roam, and how sharp to nip. Klaus tries not to think about Ben kissing other guys like this—the fervor behind every movement feels so fine-tuned to Klaus and the way that they fit together. And  _ that’s _ a good feeling. Being the one Ben knows  _ how _ to kiss is a privilege he thought he’d missed the opportunity for a long time ago. Guess it just goes to show that with a little determination, and the intended spite of a bitchy cheer captain, anything is possible. And the  _ anything _ where Ben is moaning into his mouth and grinding a thigh into his cock is the best anything he could have wished for. 

Klaus feels light, like he’s floating, and it hardly has anything to do with the weed he’d smoked during last block. He kisses across Ben’s cheek to his ear and bites down gently on the lobe before slipping lower, to his neck. He sucks, too briefly, on the skin there before switching to a flat tongue. Leaving marks is a little too conspicuous for the lowest-profile liason in the school. 

“Wish I could give you a fucking  _ necklace _ of hickies,” Klaus breathes. 

Ben tilts his head back and whines, “I— _ shit _ —I barely got away with the one you left at the party. There’s no way Allison believed I got hit in the neck with a football.” 

Klaus laughs and the hot breath has the hair on Ben’s nape standing straight up. “Come on, Benny. You can do better than that,” he murmurs, mouthing over to the dip between his collarbones. “You grew up with  _ me _ as a best friend and you’re telling me you never learned how to lie?” 

He doesn’t let Ben answer, instead licking a line up the center of his neck and stopping to suck gently at his pulse point. 

Ben’s hand curls tighter in his hair and Klaus breaks away to whine, “Yeah, like that. Nice and tight.” 

Ben pants, “I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Why not?” Klaus murmurs, lips brushing Ben’s chin, where stubble hasn’t quite begun to grow yet. “A little pain can feel so good.” 

That seems to sway Ben because he adjusts his hold in Klaus’ hair and, after a moment of hesitation,  _ tugs _ . 

Klaus moans, mouth lolling open. He presses his cheek to Ben’s and grinds his cock into Ben’s hip. One hand is still on his ass and he uses it to pull him into a rhythm. He’s starting to sweat, like the heat from their bodies alone is spreading to fill the entire darkroom, and the grip in his hair is holding him in place. 

“Christ, Ben,” he breathes. “Shit… I want to suck your cock. Can I suck your cock, baby?” 

“ _ Please _ ,” Ben whimpers and he sounds close to tears. 

“…Can you make me?” 

Ben’s breath catches and the hand in his hair loosens momentarily. Then he clears his throat and whispers, “…O-okay.” 

His nails dig into Klaus’ scalp and Klaus gasps, surprised by the sudden ferocity. Then, with his other hand, Ben grabs his shoulder and shoves him down. Klaus jolts, knees buckling underneath him and sending him to the ground. He looks up at Ben, eyes wide. 

_ Holy shit _ . 

Ben was testy at the best of times, and Klaus was no stranger to being pushed and hit when Ben was upset with him, but he hadn’t expected that much…  _ power _ . 

Ben looks nervous, shoulders drawn up and expression hesitant. “Was that alright?” 

Klaus swallows, throat suddenly dry. “You need to stop asking me that Benny;  _ alright _ doesn’t do you justice.” 

Ben purses his lips to hide a grin and his touches turn gentle, both hands snaking down to cup Klaus’ cheeks. 

Klaus, now kneeling and eye-level with Ben’s stomach, lifts his top and starts kissing above the waist of his skirt. While his hands are cold, his stomach is anything but. It’s the same sort of warmth Klaus can feel in Ben’s face when it blooms with a blush, and he wonders if there’s a little dusting of pink across his midriff right now. He traces Ben’s hipbone softly with his tongue. 

“Have you been thinking about this?” he asks. Both of Klaus’ hands slither up under his skirt and hold tight around his hips. “About what it’ll feel like?” 

_ I do. I think about having you under me, over me, in me, everything _ . Confessing to thinking about Ben while he jerks off would probably be a step in the wrong direction, but  _ fuck _ , it’s on the tip of his tongue. 

Klaus isn’t even watching Ben when he hums, “Yeah. A lot,  _ fuck _ , Klaus.” 

It feels so natural when he pushes Ben’s skirt up and presses a kiss to the tip of his covered cock. 

“Ah! Shit—” Ben jerks his hips up and Klaus smiles. 

He mouths over the head, hot between his lips, and gently kneads the muscles in Ben’s hips. He slips lower, between Ben’s legs, and nibbles at his inner thigh. 

“Can’t we turn the light on?” Ben whines. 

Klaus clicks his tongue. “And ruin all this expensive photo paper? Have some compassion.” He noses up under Ben’s balls and follows up the outline of his curved erection. “Besides,” Klaus mumbles, “what if someone walked in on us? You really want them to see you like this?” 

Klaus emphasizes his point by flattening his tongue against Ben’s cock through his spanks and Ben gasps, then bites down on his lip. 

Klaus would never legitimately wish for someone to interrupt, on the basis that it would ruin Ben’s years-strong reputation, which is  _ not _ his intention. But he’ll  _ imagine  _ someone interrupting them until the fucking cows come home because  _ that _ is exactly what butters his muffins. 

“I just,” Ben breathes, “I want to  _ see _ you.” 

The edge in his voice hooks Klaus’ heart and he hesitates. “…What do you want to see me do?” 

“A lot,” Ben admits. 

“Everything?” Klaus echoes Ben’s statement from the other week. 

“Everything,” he whispers, rolling his hips against Klaus’ cheek. 

“Much obliged, but we’re going to have to take them one at a time, I’m afraid,” Klaus murmurs. 

“Then… I want to see you suck me off,” Ben whimpers. 

And that’s Klaus’ favourite part of all this—not the primal pleasure or the secrecy of it all, but hearing that Ben  _ wants him _ . He wants  _ Klaus _ —the mediocre artist who smokes too much weed and has spent countless nights over at his house eating toaster waffles at three in the morning. Klaus—who’s always felt unloved by everyone in his life  _ except _ Ben. And now Ben actually wants him, and it’s like he just snorted the purest coke in the world. The euphoria, the addictive tug… It’s hard enough to resist the promise of sex even when it isn’t Ben, but this is  _ so much more difficult _ , and temptation never seems to let Klaus off easy. 

“…Fuck,” Klaus murmurs, unmoving. “…Fuck, alright. Come on.” He drops Ben’s skirt and climbs to his feet. 

Ben frowns up at him. “What are you—?” 

“Follow me.” Klaus waves him forward, pulling open the first door out of the darkroom. It slams shut behind them, sending them into a pitch blackness. Klaus throws the second door open and hurries out into the light, urging Ben along with an arm around his waist. 

Ben squeaks. “Wait,  _ we can’t leave! _ I’m—” 

Klaus kisses him briefly to shut him up and Ben nearly trips. “It’s alright, everybody else is gone. I promise.” 

Ben ducks his head but Klaus still catches that hint of pink high in his cheeks. He drops his hand down to catch Ben’s and breaks into a jog, pulling him along at his side. The simple intimacy of holding Ben’s hand feels like a punch in the chest and Klaus suddenly never wants to let go. He leads them down the stairs, across the hall, then back up a different set of stairs until they come to the locked door at the very top. 

Ben looks up at him with wide eyes. “What’s in there? I didn’t even know this room existed.” 

Klaus can’t resist tugging him into another kiss, one hand on Ben’s ass and the other rummaging through his own pocket. 

“Nothing’s  _ in _ there,” he murmurs when they break apart, and Ben tries to chase his lips. 

Klaus turns toward the door and Ben gives an indignant huff but continues kissing down his neck. Two bobby pins emerge from his pocket, bent at an angle for his less-than-legal pastimes. He kneels to look into the keyhole and Ben follows him down. He’s suckling just beneath the curve of Klaus’ jaw and making it  _ really fucking hard _ to concentrate when Klaus starts picking the lock. 

Almost there…  _ almost _ … The pins slip and Klaus swears. 

“Mm,” Ben murmurs, kissing over to the top of Klaus’ spine. “Having trouble?” He starts grinding into Klaus’ hip and breathing hard against his neck, little gasps clouding up what little brain space Klaus has left. 

Klaus huffs, “The really hot, horny leech on my neck isn’t exactly helping my focus.” 

“Mm, really?” Ben breathes. “That’s too bad, I heard they’re pretty tough to get off.” 

Klaus grins and slots the pins back into the lock. “Oh, I don’t know. I can usually get them off easily enough.” 

Ben pulls back and Klaus braces for the smack that lands on the side of his head, grin still splitting his face. “Ouch! Do you want to get out, or not?” 

Ben pauses. “…Out?” 

The pins all lift and Klaus carefully turns the handle and gives the door a rough push open. 

Ben’s breath catches beside him. “…Oh.” 

They both stand up and Klaus ushers him out onto the roof. It’s sparse and underwhelming, dotted with metal vents and spots of gravel, but the view isn't too bad. The garden leading down to the parking lot looks thicker and lusher from up high, and the shadows that the trees cast seem to stretch for a mile. 

“Wow,” Ben breathes. “No wonder you had to pick the lock.” He turns to look at Klaus. “Do you come up here a lot?” 

Klaus shrugs. “Every now and then. Whenever I want to be alone.” He tugs Ben out of the doorway and lets it slam shut behind them, rounding the corner of the raised part of the roof. “Close your eyes,” Klaus murmurs, and Ben squeezes his eyes shut obediently. 

Hands on Ben’s hips, Klaus maneuvers him into the perfect place to see the sunset. The sky is glowing, burning with shades of orange and pink while the sun dips behind the hills at the far end of the city. The last light of the day is streaming through the trees, falling warm on their faces and painting the rooftop gold. 

Klaus takes a second to admire Ben in this light before he hums, “Okay. Open.” 

He opens his eyes in a squint, shielding them from the sun. Then he takes in the view, and Klaus watches his expression change. Ever so gently, his lips part, and he takes a slow breath in then lets it out as a sigh. 

“Klaus _ ,  _ that’s…” 

_ Beautiful _ . 

“…Isn’t it?” Klaus smiles, eyes lingering on Ben. 

And maybe it’s the cliché romance movie stereotype of it all, but Klaus’ heart is bursting. 

_ Love _ . 

He’s loved Ben since they were scraping their knees on barnacles and building sandcastles, but now the feeling runs deeper. It isn’t just in his heart; it’s in his head and his toes and everything in between, swirling like a storm in his chest. 

He’s  _ in love _ with Ben. 

It’s not a revelation, but it’s nice to recognize out loud. Or… in his head. And these last few years have only fuelled that storm, sweeping it into a full-blown hurricane.  _ Absence makes the heart grow fonder _ , and all that shit. 

Klaus lets himself float in that thought for a few solid seconds before crashing back down to the ground, because that isn’t what this is at all. Not for Ben. Stupidly, Klaus had thought it would become easier, fucking around with Ben; let go of the feelings, hang on to the pleasure. But, to quote his parents, he was stupid and also wrong. 

_ Friend with benefits. Hook-up. Fuck buddy _ . 

Those words don’t taste quite as sweet on his tongue as he’d expected them to. But on the topic of things on his tongue… 

Klaus comes up behind Ben, pressing close enough for his cock to grind against Ben’s ass. 

“I can appreciate a good sunset,” he hums, “but it’s not exactly at the top of my priorities.” Klaus noses up behind Ben’s ear and he shudders. 

The roof is composed of a number of different platforms, all sitting at different heights, and they all patch together to create the  _ ideal hiding spot _ . Klaus ushers Ben down the steps to one particular platform that dips low enough that it’s almost entirely hidden from the ground. He backs Ben up against the wall—thick, corrugated steel—and slips onto his knees. 

Both of Klaus’ hands play with the pleats of his skirt and he briefly imagines trying it on. Slipping it up his thin hips—he doesn’t have Ben’s ass so he’d need to pin it to keep it up—and twirling, watching it flare out around him. Would it make his thighs look as good as Ben’s do? Doubtful, but it could be worth a try. 

Klaus starts kissing around his belly button. His hands drift underneath the fabric to cup Ben’s cock and Ben whimpers. 

“Can you see me now?” Klaus murmurs, watching Ben from beneath his lashes. 

The sun is striking the side of his face and Klaus is tempted to take pastel to paper to capture it. But his art takes a backseat to Ben’s cock in his mouth. 

Ben bites his lip and Klaus feels his cock jump in his hand. “I can see you,” he breathes. “You’re—it’s—this is… perfect.” His blush is so much more prominent now, heating the tips of his ears. 

“Glad to hear it,” Klaus replies. “Now we can get started on our list of everything.” 

He tugs Ben’s shorts down to his knees and Ben whimpers, glancing nervously around them. There’s nobody on the field to the left and nobody in the parking lot to the right, and when Ben seems to notice just how alone they really are, his shoulders relax just a fraction. 

His cock is tenting his skirt, not quite peeking out from underneath, and Klaus’ eyes are glued to it. 

“You’re so hard just thinking about my mouth, aren’t you?” 

Ben rests back against the wall and nods, chest heaving. His hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides; the patience he’s showing is seriously impressive. Klaus grabs Ben’s cock and starts stroking him slowly, drawing out a hiss. 

“That’s good,” Klaus continues, “because I want you so bad, baby. I want to taste you. I bet it’s even better than I’ve been imagining.” 

The softest whimper, hardly audible, slips from Ben’s lips. Instead of pushing the skirt up, Klaus ducks his head beneath it. It’s warm—the heat of Ben’s thighs and blushing cock against his cheeks. 

With his cock this close to his face, Klaus realizes very suddenly that his  _ mouth is watering. Fuck. _ He’s never been  _ this excited _ to blow someone before. 

“So pretty, Benny,” Klaus sighs. “You and your gorgeous cock.” 

He pulls Ben’s erection away from his body and presses a kiss to the tip. His tongue flattens against the head and Ben gasps, “Nn— _ yeah _ , Klaus.” 

He’s hardly even started and Ben’s already falling apart. It’s stupidly endearing. However, there’s a fine line between making someone’s first blowjob special, and  _ teasing _ , and Klaus feels like he’s approaching that line at a rapid speed. So he wraps his lips around Ben properly and ducks his head to take in the first few inches; it’s received with a muffled whine. 

_ Muffled _ isn’t what Klaus is wanting to hear right now. 

With his fist wrapped around the base, Klaus bobs down to meet it and groans, loud and obscene. He starts pumping Ben’s cock, lips trailing his fist and tongue warm and slick along the underside. 

Ben moans then snaps his mouth shut to stifle it, hips rocking. 

_ Getting closer _ . 

Klaus keeps it going, speeding up just a little and adjusting his hand to spread the slick of his spit all the way down Ben’s cock. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers, voice wobbling. 

His hips start to rock up into Klaus’ mouth and Klaus lets them. Ben is shallowly fucking his mouth and Klaus wants to  _ live _ in this moment forever. The tip of his cock bumps the roof of his mouth with every push and Klaus is  _ drooling _ ; spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth. It’s messy—messier than he’d meant it to be—but still fucking perfect. He can hear Ben’s ragged breathing, but it isn’t the volume he needs. Klaus lets Ben cock slip out from between his lips and slide against his cheek, leaving a streak of pre-come and spit high on his cheekbone. 

“You know…” he purrs, kissing the inside of Ben’s thigh, “Nobody can hear us up here, and I know how tough it can be holding all those pretty sounds back.” 

Klaus sits back on his heels, skirt flopping off his head, and flashes Ben a crooked grin. His hand is still firmly working Ben’s cock, and he decides Ben deserves to actually see him, so he flips his skirt up and holds it against his stomach. 

“Now,” he murmurs, “are you going to be nice and loud for me?” 

Ben bites his lip and nods. His fingers slide into the hair at the back of Klaus’ head, and Klaus leans into the touch like a goddamn cat. 

“Mm, alright.” 

So he wraps his lips tight around the head and pulls his hand away, sinking down until Ben’s cock bumps his throat. 

Ben  _ screams _ . “Fuck! Klaus, holy shit, oh my God, y-you—th-that—!” He starts to babble, both hands curling tighter into Klaus’ hair. 

_ That’s more like it. _

Klaus draws back then starts to bob his head, running his tongue down the shaft and sucking gently every time his nose bumps Ben’s pelvis. It’s… a lot, but Klaus would keep it going for hours if Ben was going to be making these sounds. 

“You— _ shit _ ,” Ben whines. “Feels good.  _ So good _ .” 

Klaus is moving slowly, not wanting to overwhelm either one of them, but Ben is wriggling against him, silently pleading for more in everything that he does. Klaus plays with his balls, squeezing and kneading gently before bowing his head to run his tongue along them. 

He can feel Ben’s eyes on him, following every movement. Ben spreads his legs wider and curls his pelvis to give Klaus a better angle. Klaus moans, which makes Ben moan, and everything is so hot and so wet and Ben is  _ shaking, and _ — 

Ben’s phone starts ringing. 

It’s loud and it’s jarring and Klaus freezes, suddenly thrown back to that almost-first-kiss in the forest so many years ago; it looks like poorly-timed phone calls might become their very own cock-blocking cliché. 

He draws his tongue slowly up from the underside of Ben’s balls then sits back and asks, “You gonna answer that?” 

Ben groans tight in his throat. “No.  _ Fuck _ no, keep going,  _ please _ ,” he begs. 

A burst of warmth blooms in Klaus’ chest, and he immediately grows bold. 

“Oh? Who is it?” He knows Ben has always personalized his ringtones the same way he colour-codes his day planner. 

“It’s my mom,” he gasps, tugging impatiently at Klaus’ hair. 

A manic grins crosses Klaus’ face. “Dear, sweet Linda is probably worried about her baby boy, staying at school so late. What could he possibly be up to? Nothing nefarious, I hope.” 

Klaus knows he would never do it, but the thought of Ben having to act nonchalant on the phone with his mother while Klaus is on his knees getting his face fucked is so goddamn hot. 

Ben whimpers, squirming against the wall. “Klaus,  _ please _ , I’m so close,” he groans, teeth gritted. 

Whether it’s out of pity or Klaus’ own selfish want to make Ben’s knees buckle, he takes him into his mouth again and lets his cock grind against the back of his throat. 

That’s all it takes. 

“Shit!” Ben squeaks. “I’m so—so—!” 

Klaus’ eyebrows furrow in concentration. Ben’s entire body is drawn tight like a bowstring under Klaus’ hands and he can feel his orgasm building. A string of sobs and gasps from Ben’s mouth drive Klaus that last bit further and then Ben is coming down his throat with a cry. Klaus grabs him around the hips and swallows steadily, just on the edge of gagging and tearing up, but so fucking turned on that he could probably come untouched. 

The phone stops ringing, leaving the rooftop eerily silent except for Ben’s panting. Klaus pulls back and carefully licks Ben’s cock clean. He clears his throat and wipes a hand over his mouth. 

“I was right; your cock tops my list of favourites,” he mumbles, pressing dry, fluttering kisses along the shaft while Ben regains control of his muscles. 

“… _ Wow _ ,” is all Ben has to say. 

Klaus helps shimmy his spanks up his thighs and tuck his cock back inside before Ben slides wearily down the wall and lands on the roof with a  _ thud _ . His chest is heaving and his face looks almost windburned with its deep blush. 

“If you’ve got any constructive criticism,” Klaus says, “you can email it to Klaus at blowjob appraisal dot net.” 

Ben weakly smacks Klaus arm. Klaus is still knelt between his legs with a very obvious boner and Ben is eyeing it, which is pretty hot, but he also looks so sleepy and Klaus is accustomed to getting himself off after his hook ups, so his first instinct is to stand up and offer Ben a hand. 

Ben frowns up at it. “Where are you going?” he asks. 

Klaus shrugs. “Home, I guess. Maybe the park.” 

Ben tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed. “But… you’re still…” 

“Hard? Very observant, Benny.” He waves a dismissive hand. “I can take care of myself; you’re tired.” 

Ben pauses, blinking up at Klaus silently. “…Why do you keep brushing it off like this? I’m not offering to get you off because I feel obligated—I’m doing it because I want to.” 

… _ Oh _ . Klaus licks his lips.  _ Right _ . 

He slowly sinks back down to his knees. 

“Well…” he starts, catching Ben’s eye, “with your permission, I think I want to make us even.” 

Ben lifts one eyebrow. His legs are split in a lazy straddle, knees bent on either side of Klaus. He hasn’t asked for an explanation yet and Klaus doesn’t really feel inclined to give him one. So he crawls over to Ben’s left leg and places both hands, one on top of the other, on his knee. 

“Mind if I use this?” Klaus squeezes gently. 

Ben blinks. “I’m… sure. I guess.” 

“Fantastic,” Klaus murmurs, fingers wrapping around to hold him beneath his calf. 

He shuffles closer, until Ben’s shin is a solid weight pressed roughly to his cock. Then he reaches into his jeans and adjusts his erection. He gives an experimental curl of his hips and sighs.  _ Yes _ . 

That seems to give Ben all the explanation he needs, because his lips part and his eyes widen. 

Klaus chuckles and tightens his grip on Ben’s leg. He grinds down, harder this time, and his smile quickly falls, jaw dropping and eyebrows knitting together when the rough jolt of arousal shoots down both legs. 

“Shit,” he growls. “That feels good.” 

Ben murmurs, “It… it does?” 

“Mm, yeah.” 

Klaus lets his head slump, hanging down between his shoulders. He starts a careful rhythm, shifting his weight between his knees and his toes while he rocks his hips. Ben lets out a quiet whimper and it spurs him on. 

“You like this?” Klaus asks, panting. 

He squeezes his thighs, hugging Ben’s shin closer. It’s so simple and  _ primal _ , but the pressure has light bursting behind Klaus’ eyelids every time he blinks. 

“I love it,” Ben breathes, rapt. 

That word— _ love _ —triggers Klaus’ impulse to say something soft, something caring, and he has to bite it back. Physically, this is little more than when he was twelve and humped his pillow to get off, but emotionally, this is  _ everything _ . And part of it is the realization that he  _ loves showing off for Ben _ . Letting Ben see him all desperate and eager, humping his leg like a fucking dog— _ God _ , it makes Klaus’ cock twitch in his pants. 

“I’m close, Benny,” he whines. 

Ben leans forward with the intention of touching or holding Klaus in some capacity. “Do you want me to—?” 

Klaus shakes his head. “Can you just… talk to me?” 

Ben bites his lip. “Like… You want me to tell you how hot this is? How I won’t be able to stop thinking about it all through next week’s classes?” 

“Exactly like that,” Klaus breathes. 

His nails dig into Ben’s muscle and Ben starts to move along with the rhythm. He pushes his leg up between Klaus’ thighs and it tears a cry out of him. 

“When I close my eyes,” Ben continues, voice low, “sometimes all I can see is you.” 

Klaus shivers. 

“Or um… your body,” he quickly amends. “It’s like you’re… burned into my mind. All the ways we’ve been together and the ways you’ve made me come.” Ben’s blush creeps back up his neck. 

Klaus moves faster, dragging his hips up and back down Ben’s leg. All Klaus really wants to hear is that he’s on Ben’s mind, and that admission is stupidly relieving. He grits his teeth and focuses on the pressure against his cock, on Ben right in front of him, on where they are. 

Then Ben murmurs, “ _ Can you come for me, Klaus? _ ” and Klaus is finished. 

He comes in his pants, curling forward until his head bumps Ben’s shoulder, and gasps, “ _ Fuck _ , Ben,  _ yes _ .” 

Ben is breathing roughly, fingers twitching like he’s eager to pull him closer, so Klaus leans up and kisses him. It’s sloppy, and more moan than actual contact, but Klaus’ cock is still throbbing against Ben’s leg and Ben takes the excuse to curl his fingers into Klaus’ hair. Klaus melts into him, legs going weak as his orgasm shudders out of his body. 

After a few moments they pull apart, both breathing loudly. The air between them is electric, but it stays unbroken with their silence. And it isn’t because Klaus doesn’t have anything to say—it’s because he has  _ too much _ to say. And he can’t say any of it. 

Klaus leans back with a sigh and stretches his legs out to the side near Ben’s hip. Countless thoughts go unspoken when he’s with Ben these days. Their childhood had been a constant stream of brain-to-mouth: every new opinion, new experience, new thought quickly became shared knowledge and it was all so  _ safe _ . 

This is not safe. This is dangerous, and it’s terrifying for Klaus, having to hold these weighted secrets in his mind. 

But it’s worth it.  _ God _ , is it ever fucking worth it. 

And a single mistake could bring all of this, everything they’d built up, crumbling to the ground. The rekindling of their relationship had been… fortuitous, at the least, but also as tense as a taut elastic, poised to spring back and slap Klaus in the face at a moment’s notice. His stupidity and recklessness have gotten him in trouble before and no doubt will again, but losing Ben forever is the one outcome that might well and truly  _ end him _ . And that pressure, that little  _ don’t fuck it up! _ in the back of his mind is more prominent now than it’s ever been. 

By now the sun is gone and the chill of the evening is setting in, doing it’s best to chase away any of the number of heartfelt, post-coital declarations Klaus feels like giving. 

They should get back inside. Ben’s things are probably still in the locker room but Klaus had left his bag and jacket in— 

“Shit!” Klaus hisses and Ben sits up straight, worry on his face. 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

“I left my picture in the developer,” Klaus whines. 

Ben rolls his eyes and slaps Klaus on the arm. “I thought it was something serious!” He flops back against the wall and crosses his arms. 

Klaus pouts. “This  _ is _ serious! That one was going to be my masterpiece, I could tell.” 

Ben sighs and tilts his head back, lips quirking up. “…You heading home now?” 

Klaus might be imagining the worry in his voice. He drops his gaze to his hands. 

“…Yeah, I guess I am.” 

Ben purses his lips and nods slowly. “Wanna walk together?” 

The minuscule part of Klaus’ brain that focuses on logical thought is concerningly silent at that. He wants to come up with some kind of excuse about how quickly rumours spread, or why they can’t be seen together this often, but he can’t. His mind is blank except for the gentle prod to accept. He wants to sync his steps with Ben’s and let their knuckles brush and talk about whatever they can think of, just to hear each others’ voices. 

…Ben wouldn’t have offered if he thought there was a serious chance of being caught. He’s the one with the immaculate reputation and everything to lose, so maybe Klaus should just trust his judgement… 

_ Fuck it. _ Klaus deserves nice things sometimes, and this is one nice thing he’s about to cash in. 

“Sure,” Klaus hums, smiling. “I’d like that.” 

Ben’s eyes light up and Klaus hopes they never fade. 

“Come on,” Klaus laughs, climbing to his feet and helping Ben up after him. “Let’s get our shit and take that shortcut through Mr. Beeman’s property to the mall. I need some fucking bubble tea.” 

Ben makes a face. “Aren’t you supposed to smoke a cigarette after sex?” 

Klaus wrinkles his nose. “No, fuck that. I need my tapioca fix.” 

And yeah, he just came in his pants and that’s going to get  _ very uncomfortable _ in a few minutes, but being able to spend a little extra time with Ben is more than worth the chafing. 

Ben beams up at him. “Then let’s get going.”


	4. let's go all the way tonight

“This routine is a disaster,” Allison bitches, glaring down at her immaculate cuticles, Ben by her side as the rest of the squad files off the field and back inside to the locker rooms. Some of the girls turn and glare at Allison’s comment and Ben winces sympathetically, but that does very little to ease anyone’s bad mood. “Seriously, you’d think that at least the senior girls would have their shit together by this point in the semester. If we compete with this routine, we won’t be able to show our faces on a national stage ever again.” 

Ben barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s not _that_ bad.” 

“My calculus homework _isn’t that bad_. This routine is a dumpster fire.” 

“We have time to fix it,” Ben assures her, and she looks up from her nails to give him a dubious look. It’s easy to think of her as shallow and bitchy and obsessed with winning, but sometimes he can see a little deeper-- and he sees it now, the worry in her eyes. She needs this routine to be good; she _needs_ them to win, but it’s not just for pride. A win on a national stage is almost a guarantee of scholarship offers from all the best schools in the state for the head cheerleader, and Allison will _die_ if she can’t afford to attend a good college. Her grades are alright, but it’s cheer where she _shines_. 

Ben slings an arm around Allison’s shoulders and squeezes. “Tomorrow morning, let’s drag the squad out here before class. Between all of us, I’m sure we can think of some improvements.” 

“I guess,” Allison agrees, sighing. Then she gives Ben her best puppy dog eyes and asks, “Stay late with me to practice more? I’ll drive you home after!” 

Any other day, Ben would say yes. Cheer always comes before family dinner and before homework-- but he’s got other plans for tonight, and he’s not willing to compromise those. 

“I can’t,” he says, wincing when her pleading eyes slip into a glare and she withdraws from under his arm. She takes a step away from him and crosses her arms. Ben scrambles for a lie. “My mom is coming home early, she wants to go out to dinner. You know how she gets sometimes, it’ll be a whole thing if I blow her off when she’s made reservations somewhere.” 

“Really?” Allison raises a brow, lips pursed. “You sure you’re not going to go blow _somebody_?” 

“I _told_ you there’s no one,” Ben replies quickly, blushing immediately. “Seriously, you know I’d tell you. I’ve just had a lot of homework and family stuff.” 

“Uh huh,” Allison says, already turning away from Ben and heading back inside. Without looking back at him, she calls over her shoulder, “I see the way Diego looks at you, Ben! I know what you’re up to!” 

“You really don’t!” Ben calls back, but she’s already inside, door shutting behind her with a solid thud. He sighs in defeat, resigned to that rumor, and then he checks one more time to make sure she’s gone, before pulling his phone out of his backpack. 

He texts Klaus: _still in the dark room? practice just ended_

Almost immediately, Klaus texts back: _maybeeeee. you tryin to defile my art again?_

Ben huffs a laugh, smiling down at his pink phone. He idly runs a fingertip over the rhinestones shaped into a _B_ on the front of it as he thinks about what to say. 

_meet me out back,_ Ben types, _my parents won’t be home til late, let’s go back to my house. we can do our english homework together._

A few minutes go by-- long enough for Ben to go inside and grab the last of his stuff from his locker. Luckily, it’s taken him so long to get inside, the locker rooms have already cleared out, and there’s no one there to question why he grins when he checks his phone. 

There’s a text from Klaus waiting: _on my way, b. you know how much i love to study ;)_

* * *

"Sorry it's kind of a mess," Ben says, kicking aside a pair of shoes as he leads the way into his room. Klaus just looks around, eyes wide, and doesn't say anything for a long moment.

"It looks the fucking _same_ ," Klaus eventually says, staring up at the Taylor Swift poster over Ben's bed. "You haven't redecorated since we were like 13?"

Ben shrugs, grinning up at Taylor's wild country hair and her sparkly blue background. "Taylor Swift's never let me down, why would I ever take her poster down?"

Klaus laughs, loud and bright, and Ben can't help but laugh too. 

"My mom is gonna be really happy when I tell her you were here," Ben says, and he realizes a heartbeat too late that that's a _really fucking awkward thing to say_. "It's just-- she asks about you, sometimes. She's always really liked you."

_She misses you almost as much as I do,_ Ben doesn't say. _She worries about you, she knows what your home life is like. And she asks me for updates that I can't give her because I haven't known much about you at all for years now. God, isn't that fucked up? I used to know what you ate for breakfast every day, and now I don’t even know if you really like me or you just like my ass in this skirt. I don’t know your favorite song anymore and that’s fucking me up, Klaus._

Ben doesn't say any of that.

Klaus offers a tight lipped smile, though he shrugs nonchalantly as he drops his backpack to the floor and sits on the edge of Ben's bed, casual as anything. "You can give Linda my best," he says, a little too flippant for Ben to really buy into all the nonchalance. But that's... a whole can of worms that Ben doesn't want to get into. They _can't_ get into it-- all the years lost, the once great friendship left behind and so fucking _missed_ , all the potential between them that just fucking disappeared the summer before high school.

All that potential and it led them back here: to Ben's bedroom, where Klaus sits on Ben's bed and kicks off his shoes, and Ben stands near the door, thinking about the fact that he can _kiss Klaus now_ but he can't tell Klaus that his heart has been aching since they were about 12. It aches and it fucking _aches_ , and it doesn't feel any better now that he knows how Klaus's mouth tastes. Sometimes he thinks that's only made the ache _worse_ , in a way only Taylor's saddest songs can really understand.

If Ben had a guitar, there would definitely be teardrops on it. 

This whole _thing_ with Klaus, it's getting out of hand. What happened on the roof, it-- it's been keeping Ben awake, how wonderful it was, how _hot_ it was, how much he fucking loved it and how much he wants _more_. He's ravenous for more of Klaus, he can't get enough, and that's kind of a stressful thought. This can't last forever; it's far too tenuous. Where will they be when it runs its course? 

Klaus will be fine, Ben is sure. Klaus does this kinda stuff all the time; this is nothing special. But Ben? Ben thinks he's gonna get his heart left behind a little bit more broken than before, lost somewhere in an upstairs room on a leather couch at some stupid fucking football party.

Ben can't say these things out loud, so he doesn't. Instead, he drops his backpack and kicks off his shoes, then sits on the bed next to Klaus, bumping their shoulders together.

"What did you say you wanted to study?" Klaus asks, giving Ben a sideways look that's not hard to interpret.

"English," Ben replies, though he makes no move to grab _The Great Gatsby_ out of his backpack. "That paper on _Gatsby_ is due next week, we should really get a head start."

"Gatsby? What Gatsby?" Klaus quotes, faking the accent and all, as he shifts a little and lets their elbows bump. Ben _shivers_. "Are you cold?"

"Oh, I'm fine," Ben says quickly, though it actually _is_ kind of chilly in his room-- his parents hate turning on the heat 'til it's absolutely necessary, and they hardly think it's necessary until well into January. He shrugs, standing back up. "I have a hoodie around here somewhere." 

"Just take mine," Klaus offers with an easy smile, already slipping it over his head before Ben can even protest.

"Aren't _you_ gonna be cold?" Ben asks, though he takes the hoodie from Klaus's hands. It's black and it's really worn at the cuffs and it's fucking _warm_ from Klaus's body. Ben bets it _smells_ like Klaus.

Klaus just shrugs. "I don't get cold easily."

Ben's pretty sure that Klaus wears two pairs of socks all winter, but he's not going to press this. He slips the hoodie over his head, tugging it on easily, and it's so fucking _soft._ He's immediately enveloped in warm cotton, and _yeah_ , it smells like Klaus. It smells so good.

God, Ben has it bad. 

Ben pushes the hood back, then adjusts the hem so it lays flat over his uniform skirt, and he looks back up to find Klaus's eyes locked on him-- more accurately, Klaus's eyes locked on Ben's _thighs_. Ben would kill to know what Klaus is thinking right now.

"Thanks," Ben says softly, and Klaus looks back up at Ben's eyes, a gentle smile on his face.

"You know," Klaus says casually, leaning back on his hands as he shamelessly surveys Ben from head to toe. "I think this is the first time I've seen you out of uniform since, like, freshman year." 

"It's still _half_ my uniform," Ben points out, grinning. "Am I cute anyway?"

Klaus tilts his head, then bites his lip, and Ben... god, Ben likes that look on his face. He's beginning to recognize it-- that look means _trouble_ and that look means _orgasms_.

"God, Benny," Klaus says. "You're the fucking _cutest_."

Ben doesn't know how to respond to that-- he just _blushes._ He steps closer, 'til he's standing between Klaus's spread knees on the bed, and Klaus's hands come up to hold Ben's hips, just under the hem of the very warm hoodie. Without thinking too much about it, Ben straddles Klaus, and Klaus takes his weight easily. Ben looks down and Klaus looks up, and there's something so fucking electric when their eyes meet. Ben's not quite sure who initiates it, but suddenly they're _kissing_.

_Fuck_ studying. _Fuck_ Gatsby. They both knew exactly how this night was going to end up, and that's exactly why Ben was careful to plan their study session for when his parents wouldn't be home. He wants Klaus all to himself, for the first time since this all began. Right now, there's no risk of anyone walking in on them. Ben's parents won't be home for _hours_ , and Ben's bedroom door is locked just in case, and he even took the battery out of his cell phone to make fucking _sure_ that no one is going to disturb them. 

Ben sort of... planned for an exciting night. 

Ben may have bought condoms and lube.

And Ben _definitely_ blushed bright red when the cashier raised a pointed eyebrow at his purchase.

_Fuck_ studying. Ben wants to lose his fucking virginity.

"I knew you didn't really want to study," Klaus says, laughing breathlessly, lips pressed to Ben's jaw. "Are we even _reading Gatsby_ in class right now?"

Ben snorts. "Yeah, you'd know that if you stopped skipping to go smoke weed. We can study later, it kinda seems like you need it."

"I like the promise of _later_ ," Klaus replies, grinning. "Tell me, Benny, what are we gonna do _right now_ , huh?"

Ben can't help but remember Klaus’s words from all those months ago: _I’m not going to fuck you yet._ Even then, even before they'd touched each other's dicks, Klaus had known what Ben wanted. Even then, Klaus had been sure of this impending moment, and now it's _here_ , and Ben wants… Ben wants to rock Klaus’s fucking world. 

Klaus has done this before, Ben knows that-- he’s heard all the rumors about what Klaus has been doing with all sorts of people. Klaus is _experienced_. It's good, he guesses, to have someone that really knows what they're doing-- Ben’s done his research, but some hands-on experience makes a world of difference. Yet, Ben doesn't relish the thought of Klaus doing _this_ with anybody else-- kissing anyone else, touching anyone else, _fucking_ anyone else. Ben never wants to know who Klaus lost his virginity to; the jealousy would probably drive him mad. 

Ben kisses Klaus hard, biting at Klaus’s bottom lip and licking over it, then licking his way inside Klaus’s mouth. It's messy and hot, all eagerness and very little finesse, and Ben’s lips are wet when they part. Their foreheads are pressed together; they're breathing the same air. 

“I want you,” Ben whispers, a belated answer to Klaus’s question. His hands have been holding onto Klaus’s shoulders, but now he cups Klaus’s cheeks gently, feeling flushed skin and just a little bit of stubble. “I want…” 

“You want?” Klaus prompts softly when Ben doesn't continue. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Ben says quietly, face bright red, and he's glad Klaus’s eyes are closed so he can't see the blush. 

“Oh, Jesus H. Christ,” Klaus replies, hands tightening on Ben’s hips. “Yes, _absolutely_ , yes.” 

Ben kisses Klaus again immediately, and Klaus kisses back harder than before. Ben is fucking _addicted_ to kissing Klaus. He thinks about it at night, he thinks about it in the shower, he thinks about it at school. Everything they do together, all the touches, hands and mouths and bodies pressed together, it's all so _good_ and _hot_ , but there's just something about _kissing_ that occupies Ben’s brain more than all the rest of it. With their eyes closed and their mouths together, there's nothing else in the world. 

When they're kissing, Klaus is his. 

Klaus licks into Ben’s mouth and Ben starts grinding against him-- Ben is already hard, and he moans when he finds that Klaus is too. 

“I bought _stuff_ ,” Ben mumbles when they part, a little bit breathless. He settles back in Klaus’s lap and Klaus _grins._

“What a coincidence,” Klaus says, eyebrows raised. “I stocked up on _stuff_ this morning.” 

Ben laughs. “That's a little presumptuous of you.” 

“Pot, kettle,” Klaus replies with a shrug. “I was being _hopeful_.” 

"Me too," Ben says, then awkwardly climbs off of Klaus's lap to sit back on the bed.

Their eyes lock as Ben lays down, knees bent and thighs spread with enough room for Klaus between them. He doesn't even have to say anything for Klaus to get with the program-- Klaus kneels between Ben's leg and covers Ben's body with his, and it... it's the first time they've been _laying down_ together, the first time Klaus has ever been on top of Ben like this, and it's a _lot_. Klaus is a pleasant weight on Ben, warm and gentle-- their hips are pressed together and Ben can feel _all of Klaus_.

Klaus slides his hands under Ben's top, 'til his fingers are brushing Ben's nipples, and Ben makes a soft noise when Klaus kisses him again. His fists clench in the back of Klaus's tshirt, and he really wishes there weren't so many fucking layers between them-- and for the first time, they can actually change that. With no risk of being caught, there's no reason that they should leave their shirts on. Ben has been dying to see Klaus naked for a very, very long time. He shoves the hem of Klaus's shirt up, 'til Klaus seems to get the message-- he sits up, grinning down at Ben, and he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor.

"I know I don't really spend all my free time doing crazy football conditioning shit," Klaus says with a self-deprecating laugh as Ben stares and _stares_ at his pale skin and pink nipples and the dark hair leading down into his pants. "I'm no _Diego_."

Ben drags his eyes back up to Klaus's face, frowning.

"I don't care," he says, like it should be obvious, because it really _should be_. He reaches for Klaus's shoulders and pulls him back down, then lets his hands explore Klaus's chest. There's something off about Klaus's expression right now, something tentative, something _vulnerable_. Ben shifts a little, pressing a kiss to Klaus's neck, and he whispers, "You're the hottest guy I've ever fucking seen."

" _Ben_ ," Klaus says softly, ducking his head down and pressing his forehead to Ben's chest. Klaus takes a deep breath and Ben doesn't know what to say, so he just cards his fingers through Klaus's hair gently until Klaus picks his head back up. The smile on Klaus's face seems a little more hesitant than it had before, but it's almost... sweeter. Ben loves when Klaus looks this fucking soft.

"Yeah?" Ben asks, eyes wide, feeling a little unsure and a little excited. When he'd imagined this-- and he'd imagined this a _lot_ \-- it had been all passion and heat, frantic touches, wet mouths, and a sense of _urgency._ He hadn't expected Klaus to say his name so sweetly and look at Ben _like that_.

It almost makes Ben dare to dream that this isn't casual for Klaus either.

But then Klaus is shoving Ben's uniform top and borrowed hoodie up his chest with eager hands, and saying, "I need you shirtless, like, _yesterday_."

It's a good reminder: they're here to _fuck_ , not to stare lovingly into each other's eyes.

Ben shouldn't even be _thinking_ the word _love_.

"Right," he agrees, blushing, and he hopes Klaus doesn't notice that in the dim lighting. Klaus helps him take off both layers at once, and then his clothes are flung to the floor too-- he feels sort of silly, laying on the bed in just his skirt, though it's sort of _sexy_ that Klaus is shirtless in those tight jeans.

"God bless your rigorous training regimen," Klaus murmurs, then presses a wet kiss right to the middle of Ben's chest. Ben's heart is beating so fucking fast, faster than it probably should be, and words are beyond him. He clings to Klaus's shoulders as Klaus kisses across his pecs, then licks over one nipple, and Ben _shudders_.

Klaus keeps at it, licking and sucking and _biting_ at each nipple, 'til Ben is a moaning mess in his arms, and he doesn't think about it when he wraps his legs around Klaus's hips and rocks their hips together.

"Klaus, please," Ben murmurs.

"Be patient, baby," Klaus says softly, pinching Ben's nipple harder and dragging a whimper from his lips. "We have all the time in the world, right? Don't rush me."

Ben groans, clutching harder at Klaus's shoulders as Klaus gets back to work, sucking a dark hickey just below one of Ben's nipples. They keep rolling their hips together, such _amazing_ friction, and Ben is absolutely desperate for more. He's _hard_ , and the longer that Klaus licks and kisses his skin, the less nervous Ben feels. He just feels fucking _good_ , and he wants _more_. He's been patient for _months now,_ he doesn't have any fucking patience left.

" _Klaus_ ," Ben whines shamelessly, tightening his thighs on Klaus's hips to grind together even harder. "I _need_ it."

Klaus finally picks his head up, lips shiny with spit, and he stares down at Ben's chest-- Ben's nipples are hard and his pecs are littered with hickies-- he looks fucking _debauched_ , and there will be no easy explanation for this in the locker room tomorrow. But that's a problem for tomorrow.

"You look so fucking pretty," Klaus says, smoothing his hands down Ben's sides and resting on the waistband of his skirt. "You want me to take this off?"

Ben's first instinct is to say _yes_ , but he hesitates.

All the girls on the squad are _obsessed_ with their skirts. They're always bragging about how it makes the boys _want_ them, how it draws everyone's attention when they walk down the hallway, how it's their most helpful tool when it’s _all about_ _the teasing and not about the pleasing_. They're all very pretty, confident, skinny girls.

_Ben isn't a girl_.

But he's small, smaller than all the other guys on the squad, and from his very first tryout as a tiny freshman who was still only a few inches over five feet tall, he'd been deemed the perfect candidate to be their new flyer. And _flyers wear skirts_. 

It had taken a hell of a lot of adjustment, getting used to having so much of his legs exposed and feeling the swish of the pleats as he walks to class. The male cheerleaders never get bullied-- after all, their squad wins more competitions than any other club or team at Hargreeves High, and with the football team always at their back, no one dares to mess with them. When Ben joined the squad, he knew he was gaining access to a world he'd never known before high school: _popularity_. 

He'd expected most of the perks-- never having to worry about where to sit at lunch, always getting invited to the best parties, and getting a free pass on late homework after football game nights-- but he hadn't expected that this little red skirt would make the boys want him just as much as they want the girls.

Even now, well into senior year, Ben is still surprised and delighted when he gets second glances in the hallway. This skirt is _powerful_. It's amazing. It's his greatest self-esteem booster, once he forgets to be self-conscious about how much skin he's showing at all times. Ben knows _exactly_ what this skirt does to boys-- so he knows exactly what it's doing to Klaus.

The more Klaus stares at Ben's ass and Ben's thighs in this skirt, the less Ben feels embarrassed about it. He's got this skirt to thank for getting him in bed with the boy he's wanted to kiss for half a decade.

"I don't have to take it off," Ben finally answers, offering a small smile. "I know you like it on me. Lots of guys have a thing for cheerleaders, right? So, I... I can leave it on while you fuck me."

Ben really, really expects Klaus to grin and readily agree, but Klaus frowns instead.

"I don't have a thing for cheerleaders," Klaus replies, shaking his head. He must notice the way Ben's face falls, because he quickly amends, "I mean, I _love_ the skirt, don't get me wrong. You look _amazing_ in it. Like, _really_ amazing. ...Do you _want_ me to fuck you in it?"

Again, Ben hesitates, suddenly embarrassed and feeling rather like he's lost his footing. "I just... thought that's what you would want."

"I just want you," Klaus whispers, then kisses Ben softly.

Ben kisses him back, eyes screwed shut, and he holds Klaus close, kissing him and kissing him, until he doesn't feel like he could burst into tears at any moment anymore. It's driving him crazy, how fragile, how tenuous this all is-- he wishes fervently that they could be on even footing here, but that's just not going to happen, not when Ben is so pathetically in love and it's all just sex to Klaus.

But maybe it's just a _tiny_ bit more than just sex to Klaus? The words _I want you_ , said so fucking softly, don't feel all that casual to Ben. It's not love, of course, but it's definitely at least _friendship_ , and even that is a relief. Ben isn't going to get a boyfriend out of this friends with benefits arrangement, but he's got his best friend back, and they're growing closer every day. They're not at the point where they tell each other all their secrets again, but he thinks they'll get there soon.

If Allison finds out about this, if the whole _school_ finds out about this, they won't understand-- but Ben is starting to wonder if that really even matters. Allison's been by his side for almost four years, but she's never been loyal like Klaus, she's never treated Ben like her equal, she's never stayed up with him 'til four in the morning talking about their dreams. Ben's fellow cheerleaders are all great, really, and he loves them-- but it's not the sort of ride or die friendship that Ben and Klaus once had.

All those years ago, Ben chose the squad over Klaus.

Maybe he shouldn't have done that.

Ben can't dwell on this, though, because senior year is passing so _quickly_ , and then summer will be all too short, and then what? Then he and Klaus go off to different colleges and they never see each other again?

He can't think about the future and he shouldn't be dwelling on mistakes of the past; he just has to enjoy this while he still has it.

“Are you okay?” Klaus asks quietly, cheeks flushed when he pulls away from the kiss. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, Benny. We can wait. Or, you know, we _never_ have to do it if you don’t want to.”

Ben smiles softly. “I’m ready. I’m-- nervous, a little bit. My thoughts are racing.” 

“Your _heart_ is racing,” Klaus replies, moving his palm to rest right over Ben’s heart. It starts beating even faster at the touch; that _really_ can’t be healthy. 

“Heart racing, in your skintight jeans?” Ben asks, and Klaus laughs brightly. 

“I thought you were a Taylor Swift fan, not Katy Perry,” Klaus says as he climbs off the bed. Ben props himself up on his elbows and watches as Klaus peels off said skintight jeans, revealing his long, long legs. “You know, like, more _Love Story_ than _Teenage Dream_?” 

Well, Ben doesn’t know what the fuck to say to _that_. This isn’t _Love Story_. It’s very clearly not _Love Story_ , no matter how much Ben wants Klaus to throw rocks at his window and sweep him off his feet in the middle of a field, and maybe Ben would be wearing a long, pretty dress and, hell, maybe Klaus would be in a flowy white dress too, he’d look really pretty like that-- and Ben is getting off track. 

“ _Teenage Dream_ is still good, but you’re right… It’s no _Love Story,_ ” Ben replies, a beat too late, and Klaus gives him a bit of an odd look-- so Ben decides to distract him. He sits up, kneeling in bed, and reaches behind himself to unzip his skirt. It’s his last piece of armor, the last little bit of his cheerleader identity that’s kept him so separated from Klaus for all these long years; and it’s the last thing separating _virgin Ben_ from the Ben that’s about to get a dick up his ass. 

Well, he’s got on his spanks and underwear keeping him from Klaus right now too, but they’re all about to be on the floor. 

Ben gets the skirt unzipped, and then he stands too, and he pushes everything down to the ground. 

“Ben,” Klaus murmurs, eyes wide, but before Ben even has the time to get embarrassed under the weight of Klaus’s gaze, Klaus steps in close again, his hands on Ben’s hips, and he kisses Ben soundly. 

Already, this is so _much_ , so much more than they’ve ever done, and it’s everything that Ben’s been wanting. Klaus tugs at Ben’s bottom lip with his teeth and Ben makes a quiet, whiny sound that has Klaus smiling against his lips. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Klaus says as he pulls away. “Like, I sort of think I should pinch myself, but I actually don’t want to, because if I’m dreaming, I do _not_ want to wake up.” 

Ben lays back down, propped up on his elbows, and he watches with wide eyes as Klaus drops his boxers. 

“I won’t pinch you,” Ben says, breathless, staring fixedly at Klaus’s hard cock. He’s seen it before, of course, and he’s well aware at this point how much he loves to touch it, to stroke it, to suck it-- but this is going to be _different_. It’s going to be inside him. It looks big. It looks _perfect_. Ben drags his eyes up Klaus’s body to meet his green eyes, and he finds Klaus giving him a searching look-- but Klaus smiles back when Ben grins at him. “If none of this is real, then it’s the best wet dream I’ve ever had.” 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Klaus says, then bends down to grab something from his pants pocket, before joining Ben in bed once more. There’s so much _skin_ , their bodies pressing together, and they both groan when their cocks rub together. Klaus sets the lube aside on the bed. 

Ben slides his fingers into Klaus’s hair and pulls him down for a long kiss, while Klaus slowly grinds down against Ben, and Ben is so _hard_ , and it feels fucking amazing. Klaus kisses his way across Ben’s jaw and down his neck, leaving sharp, biting kisses that are _just_ shy of leaving a mark. Ben clings to Klaus’s shoulders and _shivers_. 

“Have you done any of this before?” Klaus whispers, as his hands slowly slide down Ben’s body, lingering on his hips. “All by yourself, I mean? With your fingers?” 

“I--” Ben swallows thickly, blushing, barely able to even think coherently when Klaus ducks down to suck one of his nipples. “Yeah, I-- yes, I tried it.”

Klaus licks Ben’s nipple, then pulls back with a smirk. “What were you thinking about when you did it?” 

“I was, ah, really focusing on not moaning too loud,” Ben admits, eyes falling shut in embarrassment. “I didn’t want to wake up my parents.” 

Klaus only grins wider, and one hand slips _lower_ , past Ben’s cock, and suddenly there’s a fingertip pressing so _gently_ against his entrance. “That’s _all_ you were thinking about?” 

“I was thinking about this,” Ben whispers, hips shifting restlessly. “About-- about you.” 

“Jesus,” Klaus whispers, awed, almost too quietly for Ben to hear it, and then he’s reaching for the lube. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Klaus,” Ben breathes out, fingers tightening on Klaus’s shoulders. “ _Do_ it, please.”

“Be patient, I’m gonna treat you _right_ ,” Klaus declares as he carefully coats two fingers in lube. He shifts back, on his knees on the bed, and Ben spreads his legs to make more room for him. 

Ben feels so _exposed_. It’s sort of… obscene. 

Klaus looks like he wants to eat Ben alive. 

“Ready?” Klaus asks, gently stroking Ben’s thigh with his clean hand, and Ben nods eagerly. “Verbal confirmation, baby. Tell me you want it.” 

“I want it,” Ben says, too needy to even be embarrassed. “I _need_ it, Klaus.” 

Slowly, so _slowly_ , Klaus slides one finger inside Ben, his eyes locked on Ben’s until Ben’s eyes slip shut of their own volition. It’s a stretch, and it feels kind of weird-- he’s only tried this twice ever, and it’s felt weird at first each time. He lets out a slow breath, and Klaus moves his finger a little, and Ben _moans_. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ben gasps out. “ _Yes_.” 

“You’re so fucking hot, Benny,” Klaus murmurs, still moving his finger slowly, opening Ben up so gently. He doesn’t know what his face looks like right now, but he’s spread out wantonly on the bed, naked and _hard_ and unashamed. It feels almost too good to be true. “Think you can take another one?” 

“Yeah, I-- I want more,” Ben whispers back, rolling his hips to meet the gentle movements of Klaus’s finger. A moment ago, it had felt like so _much_ , but almost immediately, it’s not _enough_. “Open me up so I can take it, _please_.” 

Klaus slides his finger out, then teases Ben’s rim with the tips of two fingers. “So you can take _what_?”

God, Ben is so glad his parents aren’t home. 

“Your fucking _cock_ , Klaus!” He opens his eyes, peering down at the mischievous look on Klaus’s face. “Come _on_.” 

“Ask me nicely,” Klaus counters, looking all too smug. “Be a good boy, Benny.” 

“Please,” Ben whispers. “ _Please_ finger me, fuck me, fill me up--!” 

Klaus slides both fingers inside Ben in one confident movement, and Ben _gasps_. His whole body feels _hot_ , he’s probably already sweating, and every inch of his skin feels so sensitive. His cheeks are flushed and his heart is racing and Klaus has _two fingers inside him_. 

“ _God_ ,” Ben moans, grinding down as Klaus presses up. “That’s so _good_.” 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Klaus encourages, fucking his fingers into Ben slow and _deep_. “Shit, baby, this is even more fun than doing it to myself.” He laughs softly, then presses a kiss to Ben’s bent knee. “I knew this would be hot, but it’s like _hot hot_ , like _crazy_ hot, like I am going to be thinking about this every day for the rest of my _life_ hot _._ ” 

It takes Ben a second to register what Klaus just said. 

He props himself up on his elbows again, opening his eyes to give Klaus a scrutinizing look. “Wait, have you… not done this before?” 

Klaus pauses, fingers still inside Ben, and his smile doesn’t falter. “No, I never went quite this far with anyone else.” He shrugs. “Guess you’re special.” 

Ben’s heart skips a beat, and then Klaus’s fingertips brush his prostate and he moans loudly, letting his arms fall so he falls back down onto his back. 

This changes _everything_. Klaus has never done this before either, Klaus has never been with anyone else like this-- Ben has no one to be jealous of. And this-- it must mean _something_ , that Klaus has done all sorts of things with all sorts of people, but he’s never done this with them. Just Ben. Because he thinks Ben is _special_. 

Ben doesn’t know what to _do_ with that, but it makes him feel really fucking good, and isn’t that the point of this whole evening? To feel really, _really_ good? 

“I always wanted you to be my first,” Ben says, breathless, and it’s too much, it’s giving away _way_ too much, but he says it anyway. Klaus doesn’t need to know that Ben is in love with him, but he deserves to know that this is special to Ben too. What they have, what they’re doing, even if it’s just _sex_ , it’s special. It’s important. 

It’s _life-changing_. 

“Benny,” Klaus murmurs, and then he’s suddenly kissing Ben again. Ben kisses back as well as he can, between the gasps and moans as Klaus keeps fingering him, building up a steady rhythm that Ben can’t help but grind into. Without even breaking the kiss, Klaus carefully slides in a third finger, and Ben _wails_. 

“Are you okay?” Klaus asks softly, reaching up to gently stroke Ben’s hair back. “Deep breaths.” 

Ben breathes in, then out. Then again. 

It’s a _stretch_. How the hell is he going to take _an entire dick_? 

“Open your eyes,” Klaus whispers, and Ben does. Klaus’s face is so close to his, green eyes lust blown and beautiful, and Klaus smiles softly. He repeats the question, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Ben answers, already feeling himself adjust. Klaus keeps stroking his hair, their eyes locked together, and it’s the most intimate moment of Ben’s life. 

This would all be perfect if Klaus was in love with him too. 

And-- and Ben wants this to be perfect. Klaus is amazing, Klaus is gentle, Klaus is sweet, Klaus is so fucking hot. He’s everything Ben’s ever wanted. _This_ is everything Ben’s ever wanted. Klaus kisses Ben again, and Ben closes his eyes and thinks, _for just this moment, I’m going to pretend he loves me back_. 

Maybe it’ll hurt more later, when he remembers that it isn’t true, but for right now, it feels more real than anything else in the whole fucking world. 

Klaus starts moving his fingers again, faster now, _harder_ , and Ben just keeps moaning. He can’t control it and he doesn’t even try-- it feels fucking _amazing_. Why did it take them so long to get to this point? They should’ve been doing this all goddamn school year, ever since that first fateful party. Ben should’ve asked Klaus there, that night, to bend him over that couch and fuck him. 

“I’m ready,” Ben gasps out against Klaus’s lips. “God, I-- I’m gonna come if you hit my prostate one more time.” 

Klaus chuckles, then pointedly hits Ben’s prostate again, and Ben groans. “That’s not exactly incentive for me to _stop_.” 

“ _Please_ ,” Ben begs, breathless. “Just-- just _fuck me!_ ” 

“God, yeah, baby, I will.” Klaus pulls back, carefully pulling out his fingers. “I gotta grab the condom.” 

“Wait,” Ben protests without even thinking about it. Klaus’s eyes widen and Ben bites his lip. “Neither of us have done this before. We’re both clean.” 

“I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to use condoms anyway,” Klaus counters, though he looks hesitant. 

“We can if you want to,” Ben says quickly, blushing _again_. “It’s just, I-- I kinda wanna feel it. When you come.” 

“Oh.” Klaus blushes now too, and it’s _cute_. “Yeah, _fuck_ , yeah. I want to come inside you, oh my _god_.” 

“So _do_ it,” Ben replies, raising a challenging brow, and Klaus huffs. 

“I really _have_ been a bad influence on you,” Klaus teases as he reaches for the lube again. “You’re so depraved now, what happened to the sweet little virgin that wanted to practice kissing?” 

Ben shifts on the bed, hot and hard and _impatient_. 

“I can find someone else to practice _fucking me_ if you don’t hurry up.” 

Klaus chuckles again, slicking up his cock, and Ben is riveted by the sight. That’s going to be inside him. _Soon_. He wants it, he really does, but the nerves are suddenly back. He swallows thickly. 

“I want this to be good for you,” Klaus says, and Ben thinks that maybe Klaus wanted it to come out all sexy and full of bravado, but it comes out so fucking _sweet_. 

It’s so, _so_ surprisingly easy to pretend that this is romantic for Klaus too. That awed, reverent look is back in Klaus’s eye, and Ben has no shame left inside him to feel guilty over pretending that Klaus feels anything stronger than friendship right now. 

“I trust you,” Ben says softly, drawing his knees up easily, and Klaus shifts closer, one hand on Ben’s thigh and the other on his cock. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” Klaus murmurs. Ben spreads his legs a little more and Klaus presses closer, and then it’s _there_ , the head of Klaus’s cock pressing against his hole. Ben tenses up for a second, but then he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and he feels his body relax, and-- the head slips inside, and they both groan. 

Klaus leans forward over Ben, careful not to push further inside yet, and Ben molds to the new position easily, practically folding in half as Klaus pushes Ben’s knees to either side of his head. 

“This--” Klaus cuts himself off, moaning as he pushes in just a _little_ deeper. “Fuck, Benny. This is even sexier than the time you did the splits.” 

Ben laughs breathlessly, relaxing even more. Klaus’s cock feels so _big_ , but it doesn’t hurt. Ben had really expected it to hurt at least a little-- and it’s definitely a _stretch_ \-- but it’s painless. It feels good. 

He wants more. 

“Give it to me,” Ben whispers, rocking his hips up to urge Klaus in deeper. Their eyes lock, and then Klaus leans in and kisses Ben soundly, before pulling back all too quickly. 

Ben reaches up, hands wrapping around his knees to hold his legs in place, as Klaus grips Ben’s hips with a delicious, bruising force, and he pushes all the way inside. 

Ben _wails_ , out of his fucking mind with the feeling of it, so turned on that he might _die_. It feels amazing to be so stretched, to be so _full_ , to have Klaus holding him so roughly, so _strongly_ , like he never wants to let Ben go. For years, Ben has wanted this, has dreamt about this, has daydreamed about this during class, and it’s everything he ever wanted it to be. 

It’s _better_ , because it’s actually _Klaus_ \-- Klaus actually wants this, Klaus wants _Ben_ , Klaus _loves Ben_. Ben can see it all now: Klaus whispering a sweet declaration of love into Ben’s ear before falling asleep beside him, Klaus holding his hand in the hallway at school, Klaus wearing his varsity jacket without shame, Klaus slow dancing with him at prom--

“Still good, baby?” Klaus asks gently, and Ben blinks up at him, jostled out of his meandering thoughts. 

“ _More_ ,” Ben replies, and Klaus gives a wicked grin. 

Klaus starts _moving_ , so slow and _deep_ , and Ben’s head falls back as he _moans_. It’s not long before Klaus picks up the pace, his grip on Ben’s legs tightening as he fucks him _harder_ \-- the bed is creaking, the headboard is smacking into the wall, and Ben is just moaning and moaning, and Klaus is breathing hard and grunting with the effort. It’s all Ben can do to keep his eyes open and watch Klaus-- he looks so focused, so intense, so _devoted_ , so fucking beautiful. Ben loves him. 

Ben is so in love. Fuck, _fuck_ , he’s being fucked by the love of his fucking life. 

“ _Klaus, god, Klaus!”_ Ben _yells_ , out of his mind with lust, rolling his hips up to meet every thrust. The sound of it, their bodies slapping together, is so _obscene_ and hot and _wonderful_. Ben, rather incoherently, thinks that they would make really, _really_ hot porn. Who wouldn’t want to watch this-- Klaus, so tall and dark and handsome, fucking a little twinky cheerleader? Everything about this is fucking _hot_ , and Ben is too turned on to even question the narcissism of his thoughts. 

“Yeah, baby,” Klaus says, breathless, still fucking Ben _hard_. “You’re taking it so fucking well. You’re so-- you’re so _good_.” 

“ _God_ ,” Ben moans, back arching up off the bed as Klaus hits his prostate hard. “I love-- fuck, Klaus, I _love--_ ” 

Klaus’s hips stutter for a second. “Ben?” 

Ben freezes for a second, retracing his last few thoughts, and he goes bright red when he realizes what he was saying. “I love this,” he clarifies hastily, thrusting up against Klaus in an attempt to distract him again. “I love your cock, I’m so _close_.” 

“I want you to come,” Klaus says, voice low, letting go of one of Ben’s thighs to reach between them and stroke Ben’s cock. It’s not going to take much-- Ben’s honestly impressed with himself that he’s lasted this long. 

Just a few more strokes of Klaus’s hand and Ben _comes_ , yelling as he clenches down around Klaus’s cock as his cock pulses, painting both of their stomachs with his come. Ben gasps for breath, letting go of his knees and relaxing his sore legs, but when Klaus moves to pull away, Ben reaches out quickly and grabs his hip. 

“Not yet,” Ben murmurs, eyes still closed as he recovers from the _best orgasm of his fucking life_. “I told you, I… I want you to come inside me.” 

“Fuck, Ben,” Klaus says softly. 

“Mm,” Ben agrees, shifting again to wrap his legs around Klaus’s waist. He clenches down again, on purpose this time, and groans softly at the overstimulation. “Keep fucking me.” 

Klaus fucks him steadily, measured and deep, and Ben’s whole body is on _fire_. He feels so out of it, time doesn’t exist anymore, it feels like they’ve been doing this forever and they’ll be doing it ‘til they die. Ben is good with that; he honestly can’t think of a better way to go. 

“You’re so perfect,” Klaus praises, hands reaching up to caress Ben’s legs and stomach and chest as he fucks him. “I love this too, baby. You’re so _tight_ , and you’re being so fucking good, and you’re just-- you’re so beautiful. I wish I could take a picture of you right now, I really do. I want to see this for the rest of my life.”

It’s not _I love you_ , but it’s close. 

Wait. 

_Wait_. 

The post-orgasm haze is starting to wear off and Ben is coming to his senses again. This-- he-- oh, he’s been so stupid. Klaus doesn’t love him. Klaus isn’t _in love with him_. What the hell has he been _doing_ , pretending otherwise? It felt so good, for those few moments-- it felt _amazing_ to come with Klaus inside him and to think that Klaus possibly feels the same way that he does. But it’s a foolish lie and he doesn’t even know how he managed to convince himself even for such a short amount of time. 

Klaus will never say _I love you_ because Klaus is never going to love him. 

“I’m gonna _come_. Oh, _god_ \-- wait, Ben? Shit, baby, are you crying?” Klaus’s hips still again and he reaches up, gently wiping a tear from Ben’s cheek. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No,” Ben whispers, too embarrassed to open his eyes and see the pity that must be all over Klaus’s face. “No, I’m fine, I’m just… overwhelmed.” 

“It’s okay,” Klaus says softly, his hands so gentle on Ben’s face. God, he’s being so _nice_ , even when Ben is being weird and sad and pathetic. “We can stop.” 

“No!” Ben protests quickly, hooking his ankles behind Klaus’s back to keep him in place. “No, please, I want you to come.” 

Klaus is quiet for a second. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” Ben answers honestly, and then he tacks on a little lie, “That’s all I want.”

“Okay, Benny,” Klaus whispers, then kisses him softly. “Just tell me if you want me to stop and I will.” 

“I don’t want you to stop,” Ben whispers back. 

He can’t have Klaus’s love, but he can have _this_. It’s not enough, but if he keeps his eyes closed and focuses on how good the cock inside him feels, it’s _almost_ enough. He shouldn’t be getting so greedy, not when he knew what he was signing up for. This was all sort of his idea in the beginning anyway, wasn’t it? After they kissed and they came, that very first time, Klaus had joked about Ben asking him out, and Ben had _panicked_ and said no, and… and maybe he should’ve said yes. 

Really, though, that probably just would have ended with Klaus awkwardly declining and Ben going home to cry, and then he wouldn’t have _this_ at all. And this is worth it. 

Klaus starts moving again, making these soft breathless moans, and Ben does his best to stop _thinking_ and just focus on how good it feels. He loves this, being under Klaus like this, having Klaus _inside_ him, being the one to receive every kiss and caress and whispered endearment. Ben’s not sure he deserves this, but he _loves_ it. 

It’s not long before Klaus starts to lose his rhythm, cursing under his breath, and then Ben _feels it_ when Klaus comes. Ben moans loudly, feeling so hot and _wet_ inside, and he fucking _loves it_. He finally opens his eyes, reaching out with shaky hands to drag Klaus down and kiss him hard. Klaus kisses him back, a little sloppy and so achingly sweet, breathing hard against Ben’s lips, and despite the fact that Ben’s heart feels just a little bit broken, he finds himself smiling. 

“That was amazing,” Ben murmurs against Klaus’s lips, and Klaus kisses him once more before pulling back, a dazed look on his smiling face. He gently pats Ben’s thigh, and Ben obliges in relaxing his legs again, groaning quietly at the soreness that settles in. 

Carefully, Klaus pulls out, and Ben winces a little. 

Klaus flops down next to Ben gracelessly, grinning sideways at him. “I want to do it again. Like immediately.” 

“Gimme a few minutes,” Ben replies, laughing softly. He wants to curl up against Klaus’s side-- he looks so _good_ and so warm and so inviting, Ben just wants to lay his head on Klaus’s chest and wrap an arm around him and be _held_ \-- but he can’t. That’s not what this is. God damn it. 

Ben closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He wants to cry again. 

“Come here,” Klaus says quietly, holding his arm out, and Ben lets out a breath of relief as he scoots closer, pressing against Klaus’s warm side. 

Ben wraps an arm around Klaus’s waist and rests his head on Klaus’s chest, and Klaus holds him gently, and it’s exactly what Ben wanted-- but it doesn’t lessen his need to cry. He takes a deep breath, then another, trying not to let Klaus notice the way he’s kind of freaking out. Was this a terrible idea? Was _all of this_ a terrible idea? 

“Do you feel any different?” Klaus asks as he moves his hand up Ben’s back and slides his fingers into Ben’s hair, stroking slowly. “I thought I would feel different after losing the big V, but I just feel like… really good and really tired.” 

“I haven’t felt like a virgin since that party,” Ben admits, shrugging in Klaus’s embrace. “I felt different _then_.” 

Klaus holds him a little tighter. “Different in a good way?” 

“Yeah,” Ben answers in a quiet voice, eyes squeezed shut. Ever since this began, it’s like his whole world’s been turned on its head. _Everything_ is different. Everything has changed. 

He’s not sure, yet, if it’s good or bad, but he doesn’t want to say anything that might make Klaus come to his senses and stop cuddling him. 

“We should plan another study sesh,” Klaus declares after a minute. “I’m thinking… every day after school and twice on Sundays.” 

“I think people would start to notice,” Ben replies with a laugh. “And as happy as my mom is gonna be to hear that you stopped by, she’d be a lot _less_ happy if she came home to hear us going at it.” 

“Linda loves me, I could get away with it,” Klaus says in a haughty tone, then trails off into laughter-- but it stops abruptly. “Shit, wait, isn’t she gonna be home soon?” 

“Nah,” Ben says, waving a dismissive hand and then letting it flop back down on Klaus’s stomach, and Klaus laughs. “She gets home around, like, 8 these days. Her commute is insane. And my dad is on a business trip, so no worries there.” 

“Mm.” Klaus nuzzles the top of Ben’s head. “What time did we get here?” 

Ben thinks about it for a second. “Well, practice ended at 5 and then we got Starbucks… I think we got here around 6?” 

“But we hung out at Starbucks for a while,” Klaus points out. “So we might’ve gotten here at like… 6:30? 7?” 

Ben sits up suddenly, dislodging Klaus’s arm around him. Heedless of his nudity, he kneels down next to the bed to rummage through his backpack, fumbling for his phone-- it’s been put away all afternoon, with all of his attention focused on Klaus. He impatiently shoves the battery back in, then flips it open and waits for it to restart. When the phone finally comes back to life, he sees a dozen texts waiting from Allison, one from Diego, and the time-- 10 ‘til 8. 

“Klaus, she’s gonna be home _soon_ , you gotta go,” Ben says, standing up and blushing furiously when Klaus gives him a pointed once-over before he gets out of bed too. “I’m sorry, it’d be fine if you saw her, it’s just-- we both look-- and she’d ask _questions_ , and oh _god_ , I need to shower before she sees me--” 

“It’s okay,” Klaus says quickly, helping Ben locate all of Klaus’s scattered clothes so he can start tugging them back on. “I don’t want to get you grounded again.” 

“I’m sorry,” Ben says again, avoiding Klaus’s eyes as he hastily pulls on the pair of pajama pants he wore the night before. He’s going to shower as soon as Klaus goes, so he doesn’t bother putting on any more clothes. “God, I feel awful kicking you out. It feels shitty after we just… you know.” 

Klaus sits down on the ground, shoving his feet in his shoes, and he looks up at Ben with a wry smile. “It’s really fine, it’s not like this is a Hallmark movie. Sex is sex, we’re not in love. Don’t sweat it.” 

“Right.” Ben looks away, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Yeah, sex is sex. Really _great_ sex.” 

Klaus hops up, grabbing his backpack. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Ben doesn’t know what to make of that. In his current very messy emotional state, he’s probably imagining things. “I’ll see you in bio tomorrow?”

Ben should be a proper host and walk Klaus to the door, but he’s frozen. All he can do is nod and muster up an awkward smile. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.” 

Klaus opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but then he closes it again, offering a tight-lipped smile instead. He opens the door and walks out, closing it behind him. 

Ben doesn’t even wait to lock the door again before the tears start falling fast. He leans heavily against the closed door, his bare back cold against the wood, and he _sobs._ He’s always wanted his first time to be with someone he loves, and he’s thankful that he got that-- he just wishes it wasn’t asking too much to be loved back. 


	5. feel my heart beat fast

Klaus frowns down at his sketchbook then squints across the field again. 

The sun is starting to set, curving shadows further and further every time he looks up. Not like that’s the most pressing challenge, though, when he’s attempting figure drawings of people in constant motion. If he’d brought some charcoal with him, the movement would flow much more naturally. 

The cheer squad has been practicing for nearly an hour and a half now and Klaus has already filled out twelve pages in his sketchbook—a few full-body studies of poses and motion alike, and the rest sketches of the group structures. He follows their routine from one step to the next for another few moments before adding some more detail to his sketch. 

It’s impressive to watch—Klaus should really come to school sporting events more often. Ben makes everything look so easy, and he wasn’t lying about the flexibility either… 

Klaus hasn’t really taken advantage of that bit yet. High kicks, back bends, cartwheels… Cheerleaders tick all sorts of sexy boxes. But Klaus has been too preoccupied with the boy behind the uniform to focus on how far he can spread his legs. 

He’s close enough to hear Allison barking orders and counting out the rhythm, but too far to hear the music bopping from the little stereo sitting in the grass. Too far to tell if the squad is gossiping about Klaus, sitting alone in the bleachers with a joint behind his ear and a pencil in his hand. Too far to see the details in Ben’s face, although he knows them well enough from memory. 

The bow of his lip, the line of his jaw, the freckle in the middle of his cheek, and the one above his eyebrow. They all find their way onto the page effortlessly, coming together to build a portrait of how Ben looked spread out beneath him, writhing and gasping in pleasure. Klaus deepens the shadows where Ben’s hair had splayed across his forehead and he can almost feel the warmth from his chest and from his thighs, wrapped around Klaus’ waist. 

He was so beautiful. 

There’s no feasible way Klaus can capture the ethereal glow he was giving off that night with  _ any _ medium. He’d looked like… like the first blue sky after a long, hazy winter. Or like the first brilliant bloom on a struggling rose bush. Something unique and poetic that, if Klaus tried to put down in words, would end up sounding like a line from a shitty soap opera. 

And God, maybe he’s just  _ living _ in a soap opera, because  _ Ben had cried. _ Klaus had been so close and Ben had  _ cried. _ Then later, after a goodbye that pricked all the nerves nestled deep in Klaus’ heart, he’d cried again. Dressed and ready to leave, Klaus had shut the door to Ben’s bedroom and immediately slid down the wall, hands fisted in his own hair. He felt high, like his brain was empty and bursting at the same time, and it was wonderful and it fucking hurt. Then the sniffles, muffled but unmistakable, had warbled from Ben’s room and they pushed Klaus right over the fucking edge. 

_ Why was he crying? Had Klaus hurt him? Had he pressured Ben into doing more than he wanted? _ He’d sounded so earnest but… but maybe… 

Klaus shuts his eyes and suddenly becomes aware of the cold air stinging his cheeks and hands. 

Not that that night had been bad, in any sense of the word. On the contrary, it had strengthened Klaus’ feelings tenfold, and for the first time in such a long time, Klaus had felt  _ new. _ He hadn’t felt like a tool for pleasure or a slave to someone else’s whims—he had been fully and unapologetically himself.  _ His weight _ pressing Ben into the bed,  _ his mouth _ mapping out Ben’s skin,  _ his cock _ pushing deep— _ so fucking deep _ —inside of Ben. Klaus didn’t have to be anonymous with Ben because Ben knows him better than anyone else in the world. 

He knows everything except that extra beat his heart gives. That thing that wants to tuck Ben into bed every night and be the first thing he sees when he wakes up. And nothing, not Ben’s tears, nor Taylor Swift’s award-winning smile looming above them, could snatch that feeling away. The love Klaus feels is intangible, impossible to describe even with art. 

He opens his eyes and assesses his sketch. Some things, however, he can capture with ease. The way Ben’s lips parted and his brows drew together when he came, for example… 

“…Klaus?” 

Klaus snaps his sketchbook shut before he can even take note of his surrounds. “Hm? What?” 

He looks up to find Ben at the foot of the bleachers. He’s sweating— _ glistening _ —and if they were somewhere a little more secluded, he’d catch that drip sliding down his temple on his tongue. 

The field is already empty and Klaus figures Ben must have waited until everyone else had gone in to change to come see him. He must have been reminiscing for longer than he’d thought. 

Ben looks expectantly up at Klaus. “Did you enjoy the show?” 

Klaus tucks his sketchbook into his backpack and stands up, stretching his arms up above his head. The bleachers creak beneath him when he swivels around to get a good view of the courtyard; it’s entirely empty save for the two of them. Klaus drops his arms and smiles. He hops down the few rows of bleachers separating them and onto the ground so that he’s well within Ben’s personal bubble. The mist from their breath mingles between them, lingering in the air until it dissipates. 

“I enjoyed the show,” Klaus confirms. 

Ben holds his gaze for a few seconds before nodding down to Klaus’ bag. “Create any modern masterpieces?” 

Klaus shrugs. “Maybe one or two. What can I say? I have an excellent source of inspiration courtesy of somebody’s o-face.” 

And there’s that familiar pink blush blotching Ben’s cheeks and nose. 

Klaus wants to kiss him so badly, but right here, out in the open, it’s too risky. Somebody could all too easily appear without warning, and that would be a buzzkill if ever Klaus has known one. Although tugging Ben under the bleachers is sounding really tempting. 

“Don’t worry,” Klaus hums, “If they sell for good money, I’ll cut you in at fifteen percent.” 

Ben laughs but it’s soft and distracted. His hands are fidgeting at his sides and his gaze is drifting aimlessly, trapped in thought. 

Klaus’ lips twitch. “Do you want to see it?” 

Ben looks up at him with wide eyes. For a moment it looks like he’s going to say no, then he sucks his lower lip into his mouth and nods. “…Can I?” 

Klaus has never really been the type to shy away from an audience and showing off his art isn’t an exception. But right now, Klaus can feel the uncommon itch of nervousness in his legs; he doesn’t mind negative feedback from other people—God knows he gets enough of it—but he can’t deny that it would sting coming from Ben. Although to be fair, the kind of art Ben inspires is usually more experimental and definitely more personal, and probably also not the sort of thing that would ever be hung in a gallery, so Klaus lets himself believe the nerves are par for the course. What is art if not something to be interpreted? 

Klaus grabs his sketchbook and flips it open to the drawings he’d started an hour or two ago when the cheer squad had first filed out onto the field. He’d sketched their warm-ups—deep lunges and legs stretched above heads. Then as they’d shifted into lifts and flips, his pencil had followed, tracking their movements and transferring them onto the paper as quickly as he could manage. 

He hands Ben the sketchbook. “They’re not, you know…  _ brilliant _ or  _ refined _ or—or even my best work, but they—they’re still—” 

_ “Klaus,” _ Ben breathes, and Klaus’ mouth snaps shut. He starts flipping through the book, silently taking in the sketches sprawled across each page before looking up and meeting Klaus’ gaze. “You drew these? Just now?” 

Klaus swallows. He knows they’re just messy, rushed little doodles but Ben is treating them like they’re high Renaissance classics. 

“Guilty. My art brain’s sort of… been in overdrive lately.” 

Ben is still looking at him with those shiny, doey eyes of his and Klaus’ stomach flips. He reaches out and turns the page to the portrait he’d spent the last twenty minutes or so on. 

Ben glances down and it hardly takes a second for the blush to crawl from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “God, you— _ you _ …” His voice is an embarrassed squeak. 

“I did,” Klaus confirms. 

He slides a finger over his drawing, following the graphite line of Ben’s upper lip, then further to his nose. He reaches out to cup Ben’s chin, tilting his head back until he’s looking at Klaus again. 

“Although,” Klaus continues, “I did have to draw it from memory.” The space between them quickly disappears when Klaus steps forward, pushing his sketchbook aside. “And it probably wouldn’t hurt to see this face one or two or ten more times. You know—really commit it to memory.” 

He feels Ben’s shiver more than he sees it. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Klaus murmurs, allowing his fingers to brush the exposed skin at Ben’s waist for a second before drawing back. “Go somewhere with a little more privacy?” 

Ben looks away, breath catching. “I mean… uh, I need to shower, so…” 

Klaus opens his mouth in silent understanding. “Of course. Good hygiene is a Commandment. I think. I don’t know, I’ve never been to church.” 

Ben rolls his eyes. 

_ Fondly,  _ Klaus presumes, and then holds out an arm. “By all means, aprez-vous.” 

Ben sweeps past him toward the change rooms and Klaus’ gaze falls to the way his skirt swishes with each step he takes. 

The change rooms are built into the side of the school, with one entrance from the field and one from the hallway by the gym. To be honest, Klaus has stepped foot in this room all of once, in freshman year before he’d managed to finagle his way out of gym classes. The little plastic placard of a stick figure—which is probably just the school’s cop-out for having to choose between calling adolescents  _ boys _ or  _ men _ —is old and worn by twenty plus years of weather. 

Klaus tugs the door open for Ben and once he’s through, tries to slip in after him. In a flurry of limbs, Ben whips around and shoves him back outside with a squeak. He yanks the door back close to his body, only leaving enough room for his head to peek out. 

_ “Klaus,” _ Ben drops to a whisper, “you can’t come in with me. There are other guys on the cheer team, you know.” 

Klaus leans back against the wall and crosses his arms. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course. Take your time, Benny.” 

Ben looks him up and down skeptically. 

“I mean it,” Klaus murmurs. “Take your time.” His tongue peeks out from between his lips for just a second but it’s long enough for Ben to catch his drift. “…Meet you in the hall by the gym?” 

Ben lets out a slow breath. “Mhm.” His voice warbles. “Sure.” 

The door slips those last few inches shut and a grin splits Klaus’ face. He flexes his fingers and feels the chill of the late afternoon all the way up into his forearms. He ducks around the corner and into the school through a back entrance, rubbing his hands together then tucking them into his armpits to warm them up. Winter’s clinging to him, and while Klaus tends to run warm, the chill is really starting to weigh him down. 

He thinks about Ben in the change room, slipping his uniform off and leaving it in a pile on the bench. Cranking the water up to scalding hot and letting it wash over his aching muscles—soothe out the knots in his shoulders and tight tendons in his legs. 

They’d had baths together, once upon a time. Ben’s mother had found them, on more than one occasion, soaking wet and streaked with mud from rolling down the hill in the backyard on a stormy day. Klaus remembers it so vividly—everything from the first drop of rain landing on his upturned face to the mucky handprints he would leave on Ben’s neck and cheeks. Like clockwork, Linda would gasp and sweep them inside. She’d wrap a big beach towel around both of their shoulders and usher them upstairs to the bathroom, running a bath so hot it felt like Klaus was floating in a dream. This was long before puberty and the closeness he had felt when his legs tangled with Ben’s and they tossed handfuls of bubbles at each other made his heart bloom. 

He still feels that way with Ben. It’s just that now there’s a little bit…  _ extra _ . The  _ extra  _ is specifically Klaus wanting to fuck Ben over the edge of the tub until theres more water on the floor than there is in the bath. 

His mind drifts back to the locker room—there are plenty of fun things they could do in there. Klaus wonders if Ben is thinking about them right now and having to hide an erection from the other guys on the squad. Then he wonders if any of those guys have a thing for Ben and feels a short, sharp little burst of possessiveness in his gut. 

Klaus strides through the halls until he arrives at the entrance to the boy’s change room and leans against the far wall. It takes another few minutes but then the door opens and guys that Klaus swears to God he has never seen in his life start filing out in hoodies and sweatpants. Klaus knows he probably shouldn’t be standing out in the open like this, arms crossed very obviously in waiting. But he also doesn’t hold out too much trust in these guys to put two and two together. 

Four… five… six. Jesus, how many other guys are there on this fucking team? A few of them frown or narrow their eyes at him and Klaus smiles back with all the radiance of a dying star. They shuffle a little faster, heading out the door and into the gloom of a criminally early sunset. 

A couple more minutes pass and then the door squeaks open and Ben is standing there with wet hair and a duffel bag on his shoulder. He takes one hesitant step forward and looks both ways like he’s about to jay-walk across a highway—which is one hell of a metaphor—before dropping his bag and running across the hall to kiss Klaus. 

It’s unexpected and fucking glorious, striking Klaus like a punch. If those tears had signalled something deep and dark weighing on Ben’s heart, it seems to have lifted since then. Klaus laughs into Ben’s mouth and wraps his hands under his legs so he can heft him up. 

Ben squeaks and wraps his legs around Klaus’ waist with the sort of speed and strength only a trained gymnast could manage. One arm curls behind Klaus’ neck, keeping them chest to chest, while the other snakes up into his hair. 

“Someone’s eager today,” Klaus murmurs, kissing the corner of Ben’s mouth. 

“Mm. It’s been a while.” 

It  _ has  _ been a while, and that’s as good a reason as any for Klaus. 

“And you couldn’t wait until we had a room?” He’s poking fun now—Klaus couldn’t imagine complaining about this kind of reaction. 

Ben whimpers and nips at Klaus’ lower lip, emphasizing his impatience. He squeezes his thighs around Klaus’ hips and their already half-hard cocks grind together. The fact that Ben is horny enough to cling on to Klaus like this in the open is incredibly hot, but Klaus doesn’t really want to keep pushing their luck. Ben kisses across his cheek and down his neck, lips hot and tongue hotter. 

Klaus drops his head back and groans. “Benny, you’re killing me.” 

His reply comes in the form of teeth in Klaus’ neck—no sucking or marking, just a sharp, solid bite. 

“Oh,  _ fuck, Ben. _ What the fuck?” he breathes, rolling his hips. “A good ‘what the fuck’, though. Not an actual question, a rhetorical—yeah, fuck, just keep doing it.” 

He can feel Ben’s lips curve into a smile below his ear. 

“Were you the last one in the locker room, baby?” 

A short lap of tongue across the spot he’d bitten. “Mhm.” 

Klaus looks over to the door. It’s at least twenty feet away and Klaus doesn’t know it he can make it that far without his legs collapsing from pure fucking arousal. But by God, he has to try. It’s awkward, and Ben has more muscle than outwardly appears, but Klaus manages to shuffle across the floor and nudge the door open with his shoulder. When it shuts behind them, he lets out a relieved breath. 

Ben bounces, legs flexing in Klaus’ grip, and he has to shift one hand from his thigh up to his ass to get a better hold for— 

His mental process seems to groan to a stop before picking back up at break-neck speed. 

Skin. No fabric, just skin. 

_ Ben isn’t wearing anything under his skirt. _

“You didn’t,” Klaus whines. His nails dig into the soft muscle of Ben’s ass and Ben keens and bites his earlobe. “You  _ did not _ ,” he breathes. “Shit, that is way too hot.” 

Klaus moves to cup the other cheek as well, trusting the strength in Ben’s legs to keep him hanging on. Gravity is not usually on Klaus’ side, but today it’s doing him a solid by pulling Ben down and spreading his cheeks. They both moan, and it echoes throughout the rows of lockers. 

“I could fuck you right here, just like this,” Klaus grunts. “Skirt on and everything.” 

A quiet, barely perceptible whimper; a sound Klaus has come to know means Ben is more turned on than he knows what to do with. 

“…Lift your skirt up. The front,” Klaus says. He’d do it himself but he doesn’t want to risk dropping Ben. 

The request is met. Ben tugs his skirt up his belly, pinning it between their chests and letting his cock rub against Klaus’ pants. He can’t see it from this angle, but the way Ben chokes on a gasp tells Klaus everything he needs to know. The attention Ben was paying to his neck has all but stopped, replaced with little puffs of breath against the skin while he rolls his hips up again and again. Klaus is sure Ben’s smearing precome on his shirt but he really couldn’t care less. 

He surveys the room—the main area has two double-sided rows of lockers with benches in between, while the far end turns a corner into what Klaus knows is a few bathroom stalls and a communal shower block. With Ben squeezing his hips to keep himself up, Klaus takes another few steps into the room. 

Ben grips his shoulder tighter when they move and some primal instinct to protect him from falling floods enough adrenaline through Klaus’ body that the weight in his arms all but disappears. 

He’s walking them over to the lockers that are set into the wall when out of the corner of his eye he sees something move and it spooks him still. 

His heart stops.  _ Shit, shit, shit, who…  _

Oh. Klaus lets out the breath he’d been holding when he sees his own reflection in a mirror on the far wall. 

_ …A mirror. _

Ben doesn’t seem to notice Klaus’ internal panic, still whimpering into his neck and grinding against his stomach, so Klaus backs up against the nearest solid structure—the first row of lockers. From over Ben’s shoulder, he has a perfect, full-length view of their bodies and his cock twitches in his pants. Ben’s top has ridden up, flashing the dimples on his lower back. Then Klaus’ hands disappearing beneath his skirt… 

Carefully, he shifts Ben’s weight into one hand and uses the other to pull the pleats of his skirt up. 

“Oh, Jesus fucking—” Klaus whines. Even with only one cheek held tight in his hand, Ben is still  _ so open. _ “Baby,  _ look at you. _ ” 

Ben whimpers, quietly embarrassed. 

“Have you already sent in your college applications?” Klaus asks. “Because you should really consider porn. This is an ass people want to see.” 

It’s  _ hypnotizing; _ Klaus can’t tear his eyes away. And right now, more than anything else, he wants to  _ taste it. _ Klaus noses along the part of Ben’s jaw he can reach, silently urging him up into a kiss. It’s not rushed like the one outside was—it’s deep and slow and paired with the rhythmic roll of their hips. It’s the kind of kiss Klaus wants to waste hours practicing with Ben. Their tongues are tender, gliding over lips and teeth with all the easy confidence of two well-acquainted souls. 

Klaus hums into his mouth then murmurs, “Benny—”  _ Kiss _ . “—can you—”  _ Kiss _ . “—climb down?” A final, lingering kiss. 

Ben’s hand slides over to cup Klaus’ cheek while he unhooks his legs and carefully slips back onto the ground. 

“I have to admit,” Klaus says, pinching the back of Ben’s thigh, “this muscle mass is impressive. Didn’t have that when we were kids.” 

“Yeah, it’s called  _ puberty _ ,” Ben replies. His eyes are light and teasing through the haze of lust. 

_ “Well then,  _ I would like to personally thank  _ puberty _ for giving me  _ this… _ ” Klaus traces a finger along Ben’s jawline, from his ear to his chin with one hand, and uses the other to slowly turn Ben around. 

Ben lets himself be handled into place, sighing when Klaus presses his chest against Ben’s back. 

_ Such a good boy _ . 

“…and this…” He runs his palm down Ben’s chest, fingers catching on the hem of his skirt. Klaus rolls his hips against Ben’s ass and tucks his chin over his shoulder to whisper in his ear. “…and especially  _ this _ .” 

He pushes Ben’s skirt up and wraps his hand around his cock. Ben whimpers, erection twitching in Klaus’ grip. 

Klaus watches in the mirror across from them—a splotchy blush on Ben’s knees spreads up his thighs and higher, painting his cock a deep pink where it peeks between Klaus’ pale fingers. 

Ben rocks his hips, face screwing up in his impatience. “Nn…  _ please, Klaus, come on. _ ” 

Their eyes meet in the mirror and everything seems to stand still. He hears Ben’s breath catch. Something invisible, intangible, but still very much present floats above them, around them,  _ through them. _ It’s  _ electric.  _

One slow, solid stroke and Ben wavers in Klaus’ arms. Two, and his head slumps back onto Klaus’ shoulder. 

“Shit,” he whines. “Can you…  _ faster? _ ” 

Klaus presses a quick kiss to his Adam’s apple. “No.” 

Ben stiffens then tilts his head up and frowns. “…No?” 

“No,” Klaus repeats. Just as Ben opens his mouth with an argument on his tongue, Klaus adds, “ _ Because _ I have something else in mind. Thought we could spice up this little rendezvous.” 

Ben’s mouth snaps shut. 

“Mm, that’s what I thought you’d say,” Klaus murmurs. 

He slips, very slowly, to his knees, pausing to kiss the band of bare skin beneath Ben’s top, then flips up the back of his skirt. 

Ben squeaks, and his body seizes up. 

Klaus presses his lips to the back of his thigh and hums, “It’s alright, baby. Just relax.” He mouths up the swell of his ass, sliding his tongue over the indents his nails left when he’d hoisted Ben off the ground. 

An audible swallow from above him. Ben lets out a shaky breath and says, “Yeah. Okay.” 

Bit by bit, the tension drains out of his muscles. 

“Just like that,” Klaus purrs. 

Just because he can, he starts sucking a hickey into the soft skin of Ben’s cheek. His free hand floats over his waist and starts roaming; it slides up between his legs and cradles his balls then drops to trail nails down his thigh. Klaus pulls back with a smack to find a nice ring of mottled purple on the way up to Ben’s hip. He pinches it then sits back on his knees. 

“I know I said it earlier, but  _ God, what an ass. _ ” 

Klaus takes his cheeks in both hands and spreads them, the skirt flopping down over his head. Ben makes a gentle sound of mild embarrassment, but presses back into Klaus’ palms nonetheless. 

Klaus has seen it all before, obviously, but this angle is an entirely different experience. He doesn’t think an asshole is supposed to make his mouth literally water, but here he is. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, pressing his nose to Ben’s tailbone. “Can you bend over for me?” 

Ben whimpers and Klaus doesn’t try to hold back his grin. He leans forward and rests both hands on the bench, widening his stance. 

“I don’t—should I be… doing something?” Ben asks. 

Klaus cocks an eyebrow.  _ Something? _

“Sure,” he says after a moment, “hold on tight and enjoy the ride.” 

He draws his tongue from Ben’s balls up across his hole and Ben gasps. 

“O-oh,  _ Klaus. _ ” 

Klaus hums and flicks his tongue gently up and down. The distinctive sound of Ben’s nails grating against the bench joins his laboured breathing.  _ He’s so tight. _ Klaus can feel it when he runs the flat of his tongue against his hole, tugging his cheeks a little wider. 

Ben whines and drops his head forward. 

Each lick is hotter and wetter and harder than the last. The fire burning in Klaus’ chest spreads out through his arms and down through his legs, and he wants Ben to feel that heat too. 

So he pushes harder, a new pressure behind his movements. It amps up the volume of the sloppy, obscene noises Klaus’ mouth makes where it meets with Ben and that in itself has Klaus’ cock jumping. He feels like they’re loud enough to echo through the whole fucking school. 

“H-holy shit,” Ben gasps, his voice breaking on the curse. “God, I can see you in the _ mirror, Klaus. _ It’s—it’s so…” 

His legs start to quiver and he tries to rock back against Klaus’ tongue when Klaus pulls away. 

“ _ Don’t _ . Don’t stop,” Ben breathes. 

“Who said anything about stopping?” Klaus murmurs. “I’m just getting started.” 

When he moves back in, the glide of his tongue is light and tickling. Ben hisses and his skirt starts shuffling around Klaus’ ears. He quickly realizes it’s because Ben is bunching it up in his hands. 

Klaus hums, “Getting a good look at that pretty cock?” 

“…Mhm.” 

Klaus nuzzles into the cheek of Ben’s ass, warm and soft and smooth. “Well colour me jealous.” 

He bares Ben’s hole with a thumb on either side and quickly spits onto it before dipping in and running his tongue up to push inside. 

The reaction is delayed by at least three seconds—Ben gawks, going absolutely still before his voice breaks on a dangerously loud moan. 

The only complaint Klaus has when it comes to eating ass is that he can’t tell Ben how amazing he is at the same time. Although maybe that’s a good thing—keeping his tongue busy stops him from saying anything he’ll regret the moment it’s out. It had almost happened that night at Ben’s place. That treacherous assumption Klaus’ brain had jumped to at the barest indication of something more.  _ “I love—fuck, Klaus, I  _ love _ —” _ Klaus had swallowed tightly.  _ “…I love this. I love your cock.”  _ It should have been enough, but his brain had to go and fill in the gaps. 

_ You. I love you. _

And God had it felt good, riding on just the  _ suggestion _ of a confession for those last few moments. Like a fucking supernova in his chest making him light-headed. He’d had to physically bite his cheek to stop from saying it back to Ben, but then Ben was  _ crying _ and the burning, sizzling shards of that supernova had snapped back, slotting together in the blink of an eye. The memory is so much more vivid than what his mind’s eye can usually recall and that’s a good thing, it’s a  _ really good thing _ , but it’s also just a little bit… painful. 

But that’s okay. Klaus has dealt with painful before and he’ll do it again; he can drop that memory into some rarely-ventured corner of his mind to collect dust and then move on. Hopefully now his heart will finally take a backseat to his dick. Hell, with any luck his dick will steal the keys and lock his heart in the trunk. 

Klaus’ jaw is starting to ache, tongue working slowly into Ben’s hole, and it just makes him want to push deeper. He pulls back to catch his breath and rests his forehead on Ben’s tailbone. He blows cool air over his hole and it fucking  _ clenches, _ he can  _ see it _ — 

Klaus is so hard it’s ridiculous. 

He taps Ben’s thigh then the bench and says, “Put your foot up, baby.” 

He does it effortlessly, easing into the stretch to press his ass out even further. Even when Ben isn’t talking, the desperation shows in the insistent tilt of his body. 

“Obedience to a tee,” Klaus murmurs. “No wonder you’re such a teacher’s pet.” 

Ben stiffens and huffs indignantly, “I’m not a teacher’s p—ah!” 

Klaus works his tongue inside and Ben’s moan is far from discreet. 

Even though class had ended upwards of two hours ago, it’s entirely possible drifters are still roaming the halls after their club meetings and extra-credits were let out late. And Klaus could not give less of a fuck. Even without an aching hard-on clouding his judgement he probably wouldn’t care if they were caught. 

His jaw is burning now, but it’s worth every second of Ben whimpering above him. Klaus draws back slowly and licks carefully across his hole before pushing in again. Everything is so fucking  _ wet _ . 

Klaus switches gears, starting to fuck into Ben with his tongue and rock his own hips in sync. 

A quiet, strained breath hisses out from between Ben’s teeth and Klaus can picture the way his eyebrows must be furrowed.  _ This is a great angle _ . 

He feels the little drop of spit land on his shirt before he even realizes it’s dribbling down his chin—it just adds another layer to this glorious fucking depravity. 

The foot Ben has perched on the bench is arched, forcing his calf to tremble with exertion. His muscles are so delicately defined, like satin laid across marble.  _ Deceptive _ . Klaus slides his palm over the quivering muscle, cupping it and squeezing just because he can. It turns into a gentle massage. He kneads Ben’s calf with a gentle hand and it takes a surprising amount of concentration to keep his touch so soft while his tongue is fucking deep and rough inside Ben. 

Every sound Ben makes is the first rain of the summer, the earliest sunrise of the year—it’s light and airy and blessed. 

A little put out that he can’t prompt any dialogue while his mouth is busy, Klaus starts to hum—the melody from ‘Love Me Forever’. It was Ben’s favourite song when they were kids. Before his parents introduced him to the concept of radio or modern music, all Linda would ever play were CDs of artists who peaked before the 70’s. Something about Jodie Sands drew Ben in and he had taught himself to use the CD player specifically so their play dates would have a backing track. 

Klaus vividly remembers one time in particular that this song was playing—Ben had been upside down on the couch, his legs strewn over the back and his head hanging upside down off the cushion. Klaus was on his stomach, stretched across the carpet like a cat. Linda was cooking dinner and it smelled like home. Not his home, no. Ben’s home. Home. He’d looked up at Ben just to see him staring back. They’d stayed like that for a few moments until Klaus crawled closer and pressed his nose to Ben’s, like Spider-Man. For a second, they breathed the same air, felt each others’ warmth. It was the kind of comfort Klaus knew he had only, and would only ever feel with Ben. They couldn’t have been older than eight. 

Fast forward ten years and Ben is shuddering and gasping through the vibrations Klaus sends up his spine. Then, all at once, he draws to a still. 

Oh good, still a favourite. 

Klaus starts humming it again from the beginning when Ben cuts him off. 

“You… little shit,” he murmurs then starts laughing. 

Klaus just hums louder, pulls back to press the warm flat of his tongue against Ben’s hole, and grins. The hand that was holding Ben open lets go and slides up his chest to brush over a nipple. 

Ben swallows. “…Nostalgia is off-limits.” 

Klaus kisses across Ben’s cheek, red where Klaus’ thumb has dug into him, then higher. The skirt slips off his head and the fluorescents glare down on him. 

Klaus wants to ask him why.  _ Why is it off limits? Does it blur the lines of their rendezvous? A little less rigid and a little more… dare he say romantic? _

He kisses all the way up to Ben’s shoulder blades then across his neck. He hums the tune one last time, quieter and more precise, right into Ben’s ear. His arms wrap around Ben’s waist as his throat wrings out the last note of the melody, letting it drop off into silence again. 

Klaus hugs Ben tight. He’s breathing hard against the back of his neck and can’t help nipping at his earlobe. Ben curls his fingers around Klaus’ hips and presses his ass back. The air feels unnaturally still and silent after Jodie Sands makes her exit, and Klaus lets it reign for another few seconds before breaking it. 

“…Were you sore?” he asks. “After I fucked you?” 

A low, helpless sound sticks in Ben’s throat. “I… y-yeah. But… a good sore. Like a reminder. Every time I moved I would…  _ fuck, _ I would think about it and—” 

Klaus wraps his fist around Ben’s cock and Ben hiccups on a moan. “And what? Get hard?” 

Ben nods. His grip tightens on Klaus’ hips. 

Klaus meets his gaze in the mirror on the far wall. “…I want to show you what you look like when you come, baby,” Klaus murmurs. “Can I do that?” 

Ben purses his lips and nods. Then he squeals when Klaus all of a sudden scoops him up. With one hand under his thigh and one on his waist, Klaus had meant for it to be goofy. But the way Ben flushes bright red and ducks his head makes it a lot hotter than just  _ goofy _ . He walks them around the bench and over to the mirror, letting Ben down gently like a ballerina en pointe. 

It’s a bit of a slap in the face how abruptly and entirely they can see themselves. Klaus notices the trail of sweat from Ben’s jaw down his neck, and the dampness still clinging to his hair. He drags the pad of his index finger over Ben’s throat. 

“High definition,” he hums, wrapping his hand back around Ben’s cock too gently. “You make such a pretty picture, baby. I fucking know it, and I want you to know it too.” 

Ben lifts a hand to the mirror, streaky and scratched as it is, and touches the reflection of his face. He’s flushed and kiss-bitten and even more stunning than usual. 

“…Don’t say that,” Ben murmurs. 

Klaus’ smirk nearly slips. “…Why not?” 

Ben opens his mouth to respond then seemingly thinks better. The silence hanging over them is charged more with anticipation than discomfort. 

“…Because… it’s too nice.” 

Klaus snorts then quickly reels it back in when he sees how earnest Ben looks. 

“I’m… That’s a new one. And not a criticism I’m liable to  _ ever _ get again.” 

“Well, it’s true.” 

“No, it’s not,” Klaus is quick to say. 

Ben looks taken aback at the blunt opposition. 

“It’s impossible to be too nice to you, Benny. You deserve every word of praise I have for you and more.” 

For  _ years _ Klaus has felt like Ben deserves better. Better than this shitty school in this shitty town, and  _ certainly _ better than Klaus. His offerings are little more than occasional comedic relief and rolling papers—no money,  _ no potential. _

…This is  _ not _ the mindset he should be in with his dick aching in his pants. 

Before Ben can reply and dig a deeper hole, Klaus curls his fingers tighter around his cock and Ben whimpers. His nails clack against the mirror when he grasps at the frame. 

“And this is one nice thing you’re going to get right now,” Klaus says, lips brushing the shell of Ben’s ear. 

Ben nods limply. “Move your…  _ move.  _ Touch me. _ Please. _ ” 

“I am touching you,” he hums. 

Keeping his fist in place, Klaus pops the button on his pants and shoves them down just far enough to pull his cock out. Cruelly, he pumps himself a few times then hugs Ben tighter and grinds up against his bare ass with a gentle moan. 

“You…  _ fuck _ —” Ben hisses. 

“I do fuck, once in a while,” Klaus purrs. “A recent trend.” 

He pushes Ben’s skirt up his stomach and pins it there. Klaus rocks his hips, watching in the mirror how the movement nudges Ben’s hips forward. His cock is throbbing, resentful about being restrained and ignored for so long. This friction is exactly what he needed. 

“So fucking great,” Klaus breathes, brows furrowing. 

Then he looks lower. The tip of Ben’s cock is dribbling enough pre-come to run slick down Klaus’ knuckles. 

“God, Klaus,  _ just _ —do you want me to beg? Cause I’ll beg, I’ll get on my fucking knees and—oh,  _ shit _ .” 

Ben breaks off when Klaus drags his fist up his cock. 

“Sorry, what was that about you getting on your knees?” he sighs. “That sounded nice.” 

Ben’s response is a helpless little whimper. 

“Verklempt? You shouldn’t have.” 

He works Ben easily in his hand at a pace that he can copy with his hips. Ben’s huffing quietly and it suddenly feels so hot in the locker room despite the weather outside sitting somewhere below 35 degrees.  _ So hot _ . 

He arches his back and Klaus’ cock easily slides between his cheeks. Klaus leans back for a moment and spits between them to slick the slide. Ben whimpers a little and Klaus can’t resist rubbing the head of his cock over Ben’s hole with a teasing glint in his eye. 

“…I’m going to fuck you at school.” 

Ben’s chin quivers and he catches Klaus’ eye in the mirror. 

“ _ Properly _ fuck you. Stretch you out and slide into you. I don’t know where, I don’t know when, but  _ God, _ it’s going to be so fucking good.” 

“ _ J-Jesus _ …” Ben’s body is so tightly wound—he can see it in the mirror. He’s panting through gritted teeth, throat bobbing around unheard moans.

Like a switch, Klaus changes his approach. His movements become determined, rough and quick, losing most of the intricacy in favour of a good old-fashioned tight fist. 

Ben’s whole body jerks and he lets out a desperate cry. “Ah! Yes, yes,  _ yes _ .” 

The mirror starts trembling, causing their reflections to quiver with every move. And this sensation—their hot bodies pressed together so close that Klaus feels like if he pushes just a little further they could slide together permanently, become a single entity, and never have to worry about anything else ever again. Isn’t that how you’re supposed to feel during sex? Like nothing else matters? 

Ben braces his other hand on the tiled wall beside the mirror and drops his head, throat tight when he tries to speak. “Cl-clo-se, close, Klaus, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.” 

Klaus makes a warning sound. “Watch, baby.” 

He quickly grabs Ben by the chin and tilts his head up until he’s eye-to-eye with himself in the mirror. 

“See what you look like? God, I bet it’ll make you come even harder— _ fuck, there you go _ .” 

Ben is already panting and gasping when he quivers violently, coming in stripes across the mirror. His stomach tenses and his nails scrabble at the smooth tile for purchase. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he whimpers, rocking with each of Klaus’ pumps. 

They slow naturally, until Ben’s rough release of breath marks a point of stability. 

Klaus lazes, playing softly with the head of Ben’s cock. He swipes a thumb across the slit and gathers up a bit of come then smears it across Ben’s thigh. 

“So what do you think?” Klaus coos. “Prettier than my drawing?”

Ben slowly rests his head back on Klaus’ shoulder, baring his neck to a barrage of kisses. 

“Of course not,” he laughs. “I could never look that picturesque without an artist’s eye.” 

“Bullshit,” Klaus mumbles against his skin. 

This part is definitely one of his favourites. Sweet, soft kisses and tender compliments all validated by the presence of his cock still pressed against Ben’s ass. Without that buffer, this would stray too far into the territory of romance. Speaking of which… 

Klaus drags both hands back to hold Ben’s hips and starts rocking against him—sensual rather than desperate. 

“Mind if I finish up?” he asks. 

His lips trail up to Ben’s ear and he’s not sure what part in particular triggers the shiver that runs through Ben. 

“Do you… want me to help?” His grip eases up on the side of the mirror. 

“I wouldn’t turn down some help,” Klaus shrugs, then cuts Ben off before he can turn around. “ _ But _ , if I may be so bold, I would like…” He slides one hand down Ben’s leg and hugs the toned inside of his thigh. “ _ …these _ .” 

Ben quirks an eyebrow but Klaus just smirks and spits in his hand, slicking his cock up. He has to bend his knees slightly, and rest his chin on Ben’s shoulder, but when he nudges Ben’s legs together it seems to click. 

“…Oh.  _ Oh _ . Yeah,” he breathes. 

“Great,” Klaus says under his breath, preoccupied with sliding his cock between Ben’s legs. 

He’s being so gentle, it’s adorable. But Klaus has seen him cheer—he knows the strength they need to hold themselves up during lifts and jumps and shit. It’s inhuman. Hell, Ben could probably  _ decapitate _ him with these thighs if he wanted to. 

“Tighter, baby,” he murmurs. 

“Are you sure?” 

Klaus nods tightly, eyebrows furrowed. “Super sure, yeah.” 

Ben balances himself with a hand on either side of the mirror and steps together. Then he fucking  _ flexes _ and Klaus just about chokes. His nails scrape across Ben’s stomach as he scrambles to hug him tight. 

“Ah, Jesus fucking Christ!” 

“Too tight?” Ben immediately asks. 

“No! No, no, no.” 

Klaus gives an experimental rock. He draws his cock out then pushes back in, and Ben whispers, “ _ Oh _ .” His erection is still softening, but if he  _ could _ get hard again, Klaus feels like this would be doing it. 

Klaus kisses his neck and starts to thrust. He follows the line of Ben’s gaze in the mirror down to the obscene way the head of his cock just barely slips out from between Ben’s legs and sucks in a short breath. 

“Fucking…  _ fuck _ . So tight Benny, it’s perfect.  _ Just _ like that.” 

He moves quicker, fully aware that it won’t take long for him to get off. He takes the opportunity to drink in Ben’s body—his long legs and taut stomach and pink cheeks. Maybe he’ll paint Ben again when they’re finished. Watercolour, this time. 

His cock drags across Ben’s balls with every thrust, prompting broken little noises from Ben’s throat. Every so often, it distracts him enough to let his thighs go lax, but as soon as he realizes and tightens them again,  _ God _ , it gets Klaus’ head spinning. 

His jaw starts to go slack and his mouth lolls open where he’s kissing along Ben’s neck. He’s close. 

He’s pushing himself faster, harder, craning for release in the way he fucks Ben’s thighs. Pre-come slicks the slide the closer he gets, and the peek of his cock from between Ben’s legs is  _ so filthy _ … 

Klaus’ fingers tighten around Ben’s waist, going white in the knuckles. He’s…  _ so _ close. 

Ben can obviously tell, because the next thing he says, through a deep gasp, is, “ _ Can you come in me? _ ” 

Klaus is already too far gone to be caught off guard, let alone to argue. “ _ Fuck _ , babe, baby,  _ yes, of course _ ,” he groans. 

His face is hot, euphoria peaking in his chest, and he manages to shakily press the head of his cock to Ben’s hole just before he comes. His toes curl in his shoes and  _ Ben is pushing back against him _ and Klaus is coming so hard, filling him up for  _ the second time _ in as many weeks. 

“Oh my God,  _ Klaus _ …” Ben whimpers. 

He’s breathless. Klaus can’t speak, eyes fixed on that spot where they’re connected, where he can just barely feel how tight Ben is around him. 

When he comes down, it’s all at once with a heavy sigh. Pulling back slowly, come immediately dribbles down Ben’s thigh and it’s enough to ease a last little whine from Klaus. 

Ben is watching him in the mirror, awestruck. Then, slowly, he collapses back against the nearest row of lockers, gaze swinging around to meet the real Klaus. 

“…I think I need another shower.” 

Klaus blinks. Then he steps in and kisses Ben, lack of buffer be damned. He carefully keeps his sticky hand away from Ben, but uses the other to cup his cheek. It’s really a tender,  _ post-love-making _ kiss—all lingering lips and bare hints of tongue. When Klaus pulls back they’re both grinning and it lifts his heart. 

“Don’t mind if I do.” 

He turns toward the shower block but Ben grabs him by the back of his shirt like a kitten’s scruff before he can take a step. “You can join after you clean  _ this  _ up.” 

Klaus glances back over his shoulder to where Ben is gesturing. The mirror is streaked with Ben’s come which had immediately dripped down off the edge and onto the tile. He purses his lips. 

“…On a scale from  _ one _ to  _ you-don’t-want-to-know _ , how disgusting is that mirror? Ejaculation aside.” 

Ben levels him with an unimpressed gaze. “This is a public high school.” 

Klaus blinks slowly. He really shouldn’t, but… 

“…I’m gonna do it anyway.” 

He sidles up to the mirror, eyes locking on to Ben’s in the reflection, and sinks to his knees. There’s a spark of curiosity and Ben looks like he’s about to ask a question, but Klaus beats him to it. He opens his mouth and lets his tongue loll out, then drags it up the mirror. Come gathers on his tongue until he needs to swallow the he does it again and again until it’s all clean. It leaves the mirror even streakier than it was, but Ben has a nice new glint in his eye. 

“Better?” 

Klaus turns around to face him and Ben opens his mouth, to say, eloquently as ever:  _ “Fuck.” _

Belatedly, Klaus notices he’s already half-hard again. He grabs Klaus by the wrist and yanks him to his feet, making a beeline for the back half of the locker room. 

“Let’s shower.” 

Klaus grins. “Well, if you  _ insist _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus! We still out here.


End file.
